bronco-fighting? Gone up against any more contests?" He laughed
mockingly--with mouth and eyes maddeningly like Jessie's in teasing mood.

Rowdy could have killed him for the resemblance alone. His lids drooped
sleepily over eyes that glittered. Harry saw the sign, read it for danger;
but he laughed again.

"Yuh ought to have seen this bronco-peeler pull leather, boys," he jeered
recklessly "I like to 'a' died. He got piled up the slickest I ever saw; and
there was some feeble-minded Canucks had money up on him, too: He won't
drink with me, 'cause I got off with the purse. He's got a grouch--and I
don't know as I blame him; he did get let down pretty hard, for a fact."

"Maybe he did pull leather--but he didn't cut none, like you did, you damn'
skunk!" It was Pink--Pink, with big, long-lashed eyes purple with rage, and
with a dead-white streak around his mouth, and a gun in his hand.

Harry wheeled toward him, and if a new light of fear crept into his eyes,
his lips belied it in a sneer. "Two of a kind!" he laughed. "So that's the
story yuh brought over here, is it? Hell of a lot uh good it'll do yuh!"

Something in Pink's face warned Rowdy. Harry's face turned watchfully from
one to the other. Evidently he considered Pink the more uncertain of the
two; and he was quite justified in so thinking. Pink was only waiting for a
cue before using his gun; and when Pink once began, there was no telling
where or when he would leave off.

While Harry stood uncertain, Rowdy's fist suddenly spatted against his cheek
with considerable force. He tumbled, a cursing heap, against the foot-rail
of the bar, scrambled up like a cat--a particularly vicious cat--and came at