" butts in the Kid, pointin' to
Van Ness and touchin' Miss Vincent's arm.

She frowns.

"You mustn't call him Stupid!" she says. "Mister Van Ness is an artist
and a gentleman--and--and right now I want to tell you that I think all
you men are wicked for the way you have been treating him! Here he is
away out here, a stranger in a strange land, and simply because he is
above the vulgar horseplay so popular around here, you ostracize him.
Because his grammar and dress is perfect he is a pariah! Don't you
think he feels that? Isn't he human the same as the rest of you?
Why--why, if he were a woman, all the girls would have helped and
encouraged him and made him welcome in any gathering while he was here.
Don't you think it hurt when you broke up that poker party last night
when he came in? Or when he was deliberately excluded from that
hunting trip by that wretched Eddie Duke? Or any of the--the mean,
petty, little things you have done to him--all of you--since he's been
here? Oh, you men are horrid!" She gathers up her skirts and flashes
Scanlan a look, "I thought _you_, at least, were different!" she
whispers--and trips into the picture!

For about three minutes the Kid stands lookin' after her without sayin'
a word. He acts like he has stopped one with his chin!

"The big English stiff!" he busts out finally. "What does he mean by
comin' over here and gettin' me in a jam with my girl? I'll _get_ that
bird, though, believe me!"

"What are you gonna do?" I says.

"I'm gonna take that solemn-faced simp back of the African Desert and
give him a chance at the welterweight title!" he snorts. "I'll wallop
that bird till he'll wish he had stayed over in dear old England and--"

"Stoppa!" comes a voice from the back of us, and we look around into
the muzzles of two automatics. On the other end of them was Tony!

"I hear everyt'ing!" he snarls, wavin' the guns and glarin' at us. "I
hear everyt'ing!"

The Kid looks at the guns and coughs, kinda nervous. I was glancin' at
friend Tony, myself.

"Ain't that nice!" I remarks, feelin' my way carefully.

"What you mean?" snarls the ex-"No spika da Engleesh."

"Bein' able to hear everything," I explains, thinkin' to humour him.
"I'll bet right now you're listenin' to a little spicy scandal at some
King's palace, eh?"

"Don't got funny!" he warns me.

"Ha! ha!" snickers the Kid. "Where d'ye get that got funny stuff?"

"What'sa that?" yells Tony, whirlin'