currency and the elastic band
was drawn out and dropped, at the side of his chair, on the floor next
to Sabota.

The Greek and Skinny saw, at the same time, the dainty satin ribbon.

Sabota stepped quickly forward and with the toe of his shoe kicked the
garter toward the bar, where all could see it.

"Look what th' Ramblin' Kid's been carrying!" he exclaimed with a coarse
laugh. "Some size garter, that!" And guessing at random that it had
belonged to Carolyn June, he added: "Old Heck's niece must be--damned
convenient and accommodating!"

A laugh started from the lips of the crowd. It was instantly checked and
a dead silence followed as the Ramblin' Kid looked around, saw Sabota
leering down at the trinket and heard his vulgar insinuation. He slowly
pushed his chair back from the table and with eyes half-closed--the lids
tightening until there were but narrow slits through which the black
pupils burned like drops of jet--he began slowly to straighten up. Not a
sound came from his lips save the deep, regular breathing those sitting
near could hear and which was like a bellows fanning embers into a white
heat. His mouth was drawn back in a smile, almost caressing in its
softness, but a thousand times more menacing than the black scowl on the
face of the Greek.

The Ramblin' Kid's gun was at his hip, but he made no move to draw it.

Sabota watched the slender young cowboy. A look of contempt and derision
was in his eyes. The Greek was no taller, but full eighty pounds heavier
than the other. But he forgot that the other's lithe body moving with
the calm, undulating grace of a panther preparing to spring was all
clean youth, muscle and courage, unbroken by any debauchery!

"That's a hell of a thing for a _man_ to pack," the giant bully cried
nastily, "and it's a hell of a _lady_ that gives it to a man to pack!"

With a sneering laugh he raised his foot and brought it down on the
garter, grinding the silver clasp and the satin ribbon under the sole of
his shoe.

"You damned black cur!" The Rambling' Kid spoke scarcely louder than a
whisper, yet his voice echoed throughout the tense silence of the room.
"_I'll put my heel in your face for that_!"

Sabota threw back his head to laugh.

For a second of time the Ramblin' Kid crouched, then shot through the
air like a wire spring drawn far back and suddenly released, and with
an his hundred and forty pounds of nerve and sinew behind it his right
fist smashed the big