nd crowding
became worse. "Don't mention it," he said. "You should learn how to
carry your liquor in your legs."

Suddenly he changed from apology to attack. He talked at them with
a cheerful scorn, a deprecating impertinence, as though they were
children; he chided them with patient imprecations. This confused them
for a moment and cleared a small space around him. There was no defiance
in his aspect, no aggressiveness of manner; he was as quiet as though
it were a drawing-room and he a master of monologues. He hurled original
epithets at them in well-cadenced French, he called them what he listed,
but in language which half-veiled the insults--the more infuriating to
his hearers because they did not perfectly understand.

Suddenly a low-set fellow, with brass rings in his ears, pulled off
his coat and threw it on the floor. "I'll eat your heart," he said, and
rolled up blue sleeves along a hairy arm.

"My child," said Charley, "be careful what you eat. Take up your coat
again, and learn that it is only dogs that delight to bark and bite. Our
little hands were never made to tear each other's eyes."

The low-set fellow made a rush forward, but Rouge Gosselin held him
back. "No, no, Jougon," he said. "I have the oldest grudge."

Jougon struggled with Rouge Gosselin. "Be good, Jougon," said Charley.

As he spoke a heavy tumbler flew from the other side of the room.
Charley saw the missile thrown and dodged. It missed his temple, but
caught the rim of his straw hat, carrying it off his head, and crashed
into a lantern hanging against the wall, putting out the light. The room
was only lighted now by another lantern on the other side of the room.
Charley stooped, picked up his hat, and put it on his head again coolly.

"Stop that, or I'll clear the bar!" cried Theophile Charlemagne, taking
the pistol Suzon slipped into his hand. The sight of the pistol drove
the men wild, and more than one snatched at the knife in his belt.

At that instant there pushed forward into the clear space beside Charley
Steele the great figure of Jake Hough, the horse-doctor, the strongest
man, and the most popular Englishman on the river. He took his stand by
Charley, raised his great hand, smote him in the small of his back, and
said:

"By the Lord, you have sand, and I'll stand by you!" Under the friendly
but heavy stroke the monocle shot from Charley's eye the length of the
string. Charley lifted it again, put it up, and staring hard a