that the Australian authorities had tried to hang him
several times, but failed because the noose slipped over his chin and
ears, refusing its usual function. So he finally had been given a
"ticket of leave" and had come to California. Curiously enough the
Bruiser never drank. He prided himself on his sobriety and the great
strength of his massive hands in which he could squeeze the water out of
a potato. Ordinarily he was not quarrelsome, though he fought like a
tiger when aroused.

Benito found this worthy behind his bar and asked for a drink of English
ale, a passable quality of which was served in the original imported
bottles at most public houses.

The Bruiser watched him furtively with little piglike eyes. "And who
might ye be, stranger?" he asked when Benito set down his glass.

"'Awkins--that's as good a nyme as another," said Benito, essaying the
cockney speech. "And what ye daon't know won't 'urt you, my friend." He
threw down a silver piece, took the bottle and glass with him and sat
down at a table near the corner. Hard by he had glimpsed the familiar
broad back of McTurpin.

At first the half-whispered converse of the trio at the adjoining table
was incomprehensible to his ears, but after a time he caught words,
phrases, sentences.

First the word "squatters" reached him, several times repeated; then,
"at Rincon." Finally, "the best lots in the city can be held."

After that for a time he lost the thread of the talk. An argument
arose, and, in its course, McTurpin's voice was raised incautiously.

"Who's to stop us?" he contended, passionately. "The old alcalde grants
aren't worth the paper they're written on. Haven't squatters
dispossessed the Spaniards all over California? Didn't they take the San
Antonio ranch in Oakland, defend it with cannon, and put old Peralta in
jail for bothering them with his claims of ownership?" He laughed. "It's
a rare joke, this land business. If we squat on the Rincon, who'll
dispossess us? Answer me that."

"But it's government ground. It's leased to Ted Shillaber," one
objected.

"To the devil with Shillaber," McTurpin answered. "He won't know we're
going to squat till we've put up our houses. And when he comes we'll
quote him squatter law. He can buy us off if he likes. It'll cost him
uncommon high. He can fight us in the courts and we'll show him squatter
justice. We've our friends in the courts, let me tell you."

"Aye, mayhap," returned a lanky, red-haired