lowed Lawlor. "Let him come on. Don't hold him. I ain't
had work for my hands for five years. I need exercise, I do."

The mouth of Jansen stirred, but no words came. A hopeless yearning was
in his eyes. But he dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel.

"I thought," growled Lawlor, "that you knew your master, but don't make
no mistake again. Speakin' personal, I don't think no more of knockin'
down a Swede than I do of flickin' the ashes off'n a cigar."

He indulged in a side glance at Bard to see if the latter were properly
impressed, but Anthony was staring blankly straight before him, unable,
to all appearances, to see anything of what was happening.

"Kilrain," went on Lawlor, "trot out some cigars. You know where they're
kept."

Kilrain falling to the temptation, asked: "Where's the key to the
cabinet?"

For Drew kept his tobacco in a small cabinet, locked because of long
experience with tobacco-loving employees. Lawlor started to speak,
checked himself, fumbled through his pockets, and then roared: "Smash
the door open. I misplaced the key."

No semblance of a smile altered the faces of the cowpunchers around the
table, but glances of vague meaning were interchanged. Kilrain
reappeared almost at once, bearing a large box of cigars under each arm.

"The eats bein' over," announced Lawlor, "we can now light up. Open them
boxes, Shorty. Am I goin' to work on you the rest of my life teachin'
you how to serve cigars?"

Kilrain sighed deeply, but obeyed, presenting the open boxes in turn to
Bard, who thanked him, and to Lawlor, who bit off the end of his smoke
continued: "A match, Kilrain."

And he waited, swelling with pleasure, his eyes fixed upon space.
Kilrain lighted a match and held it for the two in turn. Two rows of
waiting, expectant eyes were turned from the whole length, of the table,
toward the cigars.

"Shall I pass on the cigars?" suggested Bard.

"_These_ smokes?" breathed Lawlor. "Waste 'em on common hands? Partner,
you ain't serious, are you?"

A breath like the faint sighing of wind reached them; the cowpunchers
were resigned, and started now to roll their Durham. But it seemed as if
a chuckle came from above; it was only some sound in the gasoline lamp,
a big fixture which hung suspended by a slender chain from the centre of
the ceiling and immediately above the table.

"Civilizin' cowpunchers," went on Lawlor, tilting back in his chair and
bracing his feet against the edge