o the blue sky three
rapid revolver shots. Plainly they were advertising the fact that they
had come to paint the town red and did not care who knew it.

The riders pulled up abruptly in front of Tolleson's Gaming Palace &
Saloon, swung from their horses, and trailed with jingling spurs into
that oasis of refreshment. Each of them carried in his hand a rope. The
other end of the rawhide was tied to the horn of a saddle.

A heavy-set, bow-legged man led the procession to the bar. He straddled
forward with a swagger. The bartender was busy dusting his stock. Before
the man had a chance to turn, the butt of a revolver hammered the
counter.

"Get busy here! Set 'em up, Mike. And jump!" snarled the heavy man.

The barkeeper took one look at him and filed no demurrer. "Bad man" was
writ on every line of the sullen, dissipated face of the bully. It was a
safe bet that he was used to having his own way, or failing that was
ready to fight at the drop of the hat.

Swiftly the drinks were prepared.

"Here 'show!"

"How!"

Every glass was tilted and emptied.

It was high noon by the sun and Tolleson's was practically deserted. No
devotees sat round the faro, roulette, and keno tables. The dealers were
asleep in bed after their labors. So too were the dance girls. The poker
rooms upstairs held only the stale odor of tobacco and whiskey. Except
for a sleepy negro roustabout attendant and two young fellows at a table
well back from the bar, the cowboys had the big hall all to themselves.

The bay was near the front of the barnlike room and to the right. To the
left, along the wall, were small tables. Farther back were those used for
gaming. In the rear one corner of the floor held a rostrum with seats for
musicians. The center of the hall was kept clear for dancing. Three steps
led to a door halfway back on the left-hand side of the building. They
communicated with an outer stairway by means of which one could reach the
poker rooms.

The older of the two young men at the table nodded toward the roisterers
and murmured information. "Some of the Snaith-McRobert crowd."

His companion was seated with his back to the bar. He had riot turned his
head to look at those lined up in front of the mirrors for drinks, but a
curious change had come over him. The relaxed body had grown rigid. No
longer was he lounging against the back of his chair. From his eyes the
laughter had been wiped out, as a wet sponge obliterates writing on a