turned, and, apologizing for his
long absence, resumed his duties at the door. Across the room, Hamlin's
eyes met those of Miss McDonald, where she danced with an unknown
officer; then he turned and elbowed his way to the street. The hotel
opposite was all bustle and confusion, the bar-room crowded with the
thirsty emergency waiters who had rushed about the hall completing final
preparations. The Sergeant, intent on his purpose, and aware that the
band had ceased playing, dodged past these and entered the parlor. It
was already occupied by four men, who were playing cards at a small,
round table and smoking vigorously, entirely engrossed in their game.
None of them so much as glanced up, and the intruder hesitated an
instant, quickly determining his course of action. There was little
choice left. The girl would never make an appointment with him except
through necessity, and it was manifestly his duty to protect her from
observation. Two of the men sitting there were strangers; the others he
knew merely by sight, a tin-horn gambler called Charlie, and a sutler's
clerk. His decision was swift, and characteristic.

"Gents," he said, stepping up, and tapping the table sharply, "you 'll
have to vamoose from here."

"What the hell--" the gambler looked up into the gray eyes, and stopped.

"That's all right, Charlie," went on Hamlin coolly, one hand at his belt.
"Those are my orders, and they go. Hire a room upstairs if you want to
keep on with the game. Pick up the stuff, you fellows."

"But see here," the speaker was upon his feet protesting. "The old man
told us we could come in here."

"The old man's word don't go for this floor to-night, partner. It's
rented by the post officers. Now mosey right along, and don't come back
unless you are looking for trouble--you too, Fatty."

Right or wrong there was plainly no use continuing the argument, for
Hamlin's fingers were upon the butt of his revolver, and his eyes
hardened at the delay. The gambler's inclination was to oppose this
summary dismissal, but a glance at his crowd convinced him he would have
to play the hand alone, so he yielded reluctantly, swept the chips into
the side pocket of his coat and departed, leaving behind a trail of
profanity. The Sergeant smiled, but remained motionless until they
disappeared.

"The bluff works," he thought serenely, "unless they make a kick at the
office; some peeved, Charlie was."

He stepped over to the window