Frank had become impatient; as for John, he had been so absorbed by the
scenes within, he had not noticed how the frosty ground was slowly
stiffening his limbs and setting his teeth chattering. They were both
now looking in at the window. John had simply pointed with his mittened,
stubby thumb toward the interior, and Frank had crawled along to a place
beside him.

Mixing the drinks had produced the disastrous effect which Hank and
Bedloe had anticipated. The fun became uproarious. There were songs and
dances by various members of the Nagle gang, but Lime's crowd, being in
the minority, kept quiet, occasionally standing treat as was the proper
thing to do.

But Steve grew wilder and more irritable every moment. He seemed to have
drunk just enough to let loose the terrible force that slept in his
muscles. He had tugged at his throat until the strings of his woolen
shirt loosened, displaying the great, sloping muscles of his neck and
shoulders, white as milk and hard as iron. His eyes rolled restlessly to
and fro as he paced the floor. His panther-like step was full of a
terrible suggestiveness. The breath of the boys at the window came
quicker and quicker. They saw he was working himself into a rage that
threatened momentarily to break forth into a violence. He realized that
this was a crisis in his career; his reputation was at stake.

Young as John was, he understood the whole matter as he studied the
restless Steve, and compared him with his impassive hero, sitting
immovable.

"You see Lime can't go away," he explained, breathlessly, to Frank, in a
whisper, "'cause they'd tell it all over the country that he backed down
for Steve. He daresn't leave."

"Steve ain't no durn fool," returned the superior wisdom of Frank, in
the same cautious whisper, keeping his eyes on the bar-room. "See Lime
there, cool as a cucumber. He's from the pineries, he is." He ended in a
tone of voice intended to convey that fighting was the principal study
of the pineries, and that Lime had graduated with the highest honors.
"Steve ain't a-go'n' to pitch into him yet awhile, you bet y'r bottom
dollar; he ain't drunk enough for that."

Each time the invitation for another drink was given, they noticed that
Lime kept on the outside of the crowd, and some one helped him to his
glass. "Don't you see he ain't drinkin'. He's throwin' it away," said
Frank; "there, see! He's foolun' 'em; he ain't a-go'n' to be drunk when
Steve tackles him. Oh