rotation, whirled round and round the room until they brought up against
the bar where they, breathlessly, called for drinks.

An angry lull fell upon the room; the card game stopped. However, before
anyone seated there could give vent to his resentment at this boisterous
intrusion of the men from the rival camp, the smooth, oily and inviting
voice of the unprincipled Sidney Duck, scenting easy prey because of
their inebriated condition, called out in its cockney accent:

"'Ello, boys--'ow's things at The Ridge?"

"Wipes this camp off the earth!" returned a voice that was provocative
in the extreme--a reply that instantly brought every man at the faro
table to his feet. For a time, at least, it seemed as if the boys from
The Ridge would get the trouble they were looking for.

A murmur of angry amazement arose, while Sonora, his watery blue eyes
glinting, followed up his explosive, "What!" with a suggestive movement
towards his hip. But quick as he was Nick was still quicker and had The
Ridge boy, as well as Sonora, covered before their hands had even
reached their guns.

"You . . .!" the little barkeeper's sentence was bristled out and
contained along with the expletives some comparatively mild words which
gave the would-be combatants to understand that any such foolishness
would not be tolerated in The Polka unless he himself "'lowed it to be
ne'ssary."

Not unnaturally The Ridge boys failed to see anything offensive in
language that had a gun behind it; and realising the futility of any