now!"

"Aw, shut up, Frenchy," the man at his elbow abjured him. "He don't have to
drink if he don't want to."

"You keep the face close," the other retorted majestically; and cursed loud
and long and incoherently.

Rowdy drew back his arm, with a fist that meant trouble for somebody; but
there were others before him who pinned the importunate host to the table,
where he squirmed unavailingly.

Rowdy buttoned up his coat the while he eyed the group disgustedly. "I guess
we'll drift," he remarked. "You don't look good to me, and that's no dream."

"Aw, stay and warm up," the fourth man expostulated. "Yuh don't need t' mind
Le Febre; he's drunk.'

But Rowdy opened the door decisively, and Miss Conroy, her cheeks like two
storm-buffeted poppies, followed him out with dignity--albeit trailing a
yard of red-and-yellow Navajo blanket behind her. Rowdy lifted her into the
saddle, tucked her feet carefully under the blanket, and said never a word.

"Mr. Vaughan," she began hesitatingly, "this is too bad; you need not have
left. I--I wasn't afraid."

"I know you weren't," conceded Rowdy. "But it was a hard formation--for a
woman. Are there any more places on this flat marked Unavailable?"

Miss Conroy replied misanthropically that if there were they would be sure