s into my
place askin' to hide from anyone, police or not, I'm on his side every
time."

"He's no sailor," said Quincy. "He's Bill Rogers, an outlaw I came East
for."

"How about it?" asked the proprietor, turning to Rogers. "You a
sailor?"

"Have been. Can be again," answered Rogers calmly.

"Box the compass."

"North, nor'-an'-by-east, nor'-nor'east, nor'east-an'-by--"

"That's good. Which side does the main topgallant halyards lead down?"

"Port side. Fore and mizzen to starboard."

"This man's a sailor, all right. And he's not goin' out o' my place
under any man's gun, 'less he's a policeman with a warrant."

"Well, we'll get the policeman with a warrant," said Quincy, "unless
this will do." He drew forth a receipt made out by the clerk of the
court for extradition papers.

Benson stiffened up. "Here's something better," he said: "Extradition
papers issued by the authorities at Washington. It's a warrant, if
anything is." He drew forth his evidence of official integrity.

The big man examined both. "Beyond me, just now," he commented.
"However, I'm not goin' to see a sailor railroaded out o' my place till
I'm sure it's all right. Come into the back room. We'll all have a
drink and talk it over. Casey!" he yelled at the top of his voice, and
when a voice from upstairs answered he added: "Come down here an' tend
bar."

Casey, a smaller edition of the proprietor, appeared, and the three men
were led to the back room, where they seated themselves at a round
table, while the proprietor himself took their orders. The drinks were
soon served, the big man bringing one for himself, and joining them.

"Now, then," he said, lifting his glass, "we'll drink to a good-natured
settlement o' this job. What's this man done out West?"

They all drank.

"Robbed the Wickenburg stage of the first cleanup of Jim Mahar's placer
mine. About ten thousand dollars he got away with."

"Jim Mahar!" said Benson. "Why, that's the name of the man he murdered
in Manitoba."

"How about it, mate?" said the big man, turning to Rogers.

"Same man," he said quietly. "I shot him; but I never robbed him."

"You didn't?" answered Quincy, derisively. "You were recognized!"

"The mine was mine, and the dust I took I had washed out with my own
hands. He got that mine away from me on a technicality, Quincy, and you
know it."

"Oh, I know there was some dispute; but that's not my business. I'm
here to take you back, and I've got to d