prisoners at the jail, and two of them, when they saw Nick coming,
hurried into the back room, leaving the door open.

"What's up, Nick?" the proprietor asked as he poured the whiskey
Ellhorn had ordered.

"Tommy and me," answered Nick jauntily, pushing his glass across the
bar to be filled a second time. "We 're on top now, and I sure reckon
we 're goin' to stay there!"

"After the Dysert gang?"

"You bet! Hot and heavy! We'll have 'em all bunched in the jail by
night!"

Ellhorn stood with his back toward the middle door; and the two men in
the rear room cautiously made their way into the front again, revolvers
in their hands. Nick turned and found himself facing Faustin Dysert
and Hippolito Chavez, a policeman and member of Dysert's society. His
two revolvers flashed out, the triggers clicked, and he stood waiting
for the next move of the others, for he saw at once that they did not
intend to shoot at that moment.

"You 'll have to give me your guns, Nick," said Dysert. "You 're drunk
and disorderly, and I 'm going to arrest you."

"Want my guns?" shouted Nick derisively. "Then come and take 'em!"

"I 'm going to take them, and I 'll give you two minutes in which to
decide whether or not you 'll give them up peaceably."