On a corner a glass-fronted building shed a yellow glare uponthe pavements. The open mouth of a saloon called seductively topassengers to enter and annihilate sorrow or create rage.

The interior of the place was papered in olive and bronze tintsof imitation leather. A shining bar of counterfeit massivenessextended down the side of the room. Behind it a greatmahogany-appearing sideboard reached the ceiling. Upon itsshelves rested pyramids of shimmering glasses that were neverdisturbed. Mirrors set in the face of the sideboard multipliedthem. Lemons, oranges and paper napkins, arranged withmathematical precision, sat among the glasses. Many-hued decantersof liquor perched at regular intervals on the lower shelves.A nickel-plated cash register occupied a position in the exactcentre of the general effect. The elementary senses of it allseemed to be opulence and geometrical accuracy.

Across from the bar a smaller counter held a collection of platesupon which swarmed frayed fragments of crackers, slices of boiled ham,dishevelled bits of cheese, and pickles swimming in vinegar.An odor of grasping, begrimed hands and munching mouths pervaded.

Pete, in a white jacket, was behind the bar bendingexpectantly toward a quiet stranger. "A beeh," said the man.Pete drew a foam-topped glassful and set it dripping upon the bar.

At this moment the light bamboo doors at the entrance swungopen and crashed against the siding. Jimmie and a companionentered. They swaggered unsteadily but belligerently toward thebar and looked at Pete with bleared and blinking eyes.

"Gin," said Jimmie.

"Gin," said the companion.

Pete slid a bottle and two glasses along the bar. He bendedhis head sideways as he assiduously polished away with a napkin atthe gleaming wood. He had a look of watchfulness upon hisfeatures.

Jimmie and his companion kept their eyes upon the bartenderand conversed loudly in tones of contempt.

"He's a dindy masher, ain't he, by Gawd?" laughed Jimmie.

"Oh, hell, yes," said the companion, sneering widely. "He'sgreat, he is. Git onto deh mug on deh blokie. Dat's enough tomake a feller turn hand-springs in 'is sleep."

The quiet stranger moved himself and his glass a triflefurther away and maintained an attitude of oblivion.

"Gee! ain't he hot stuff!"

"Git onto his shape! Great Gawd!"

"Hey," cried Jimmie, in tones of command. Pete came alongslowly, with a sullen dropping of the under lip.

"Well," he growled, "what's eatin' yehs?"

"Gin," said Jimmie.

"Gin," said the companion.

As Pete confronted them with the bottle and the glasses, theylaughed in his face. Jimmie's companion, evidently overcome withmerriment, pointed a grimy forefinger in Pete's direction.

"Say, Jimmie," demanded he, "what deh hell is dat behind dehbar?"

"Damned if I knows," replied Jimmie. They laughed loudly. Pete put down a bottle with a bang and turned a formidable facetoward them. He disclosed his teeth and his shoulders heavedrestlessly.

"You fellers can't guy me," he said. "Drink yer stuff an' gitout an' don' make no trouble."

Instantly the laughter faded from the faces of the two men andexpressions of offended dignity immediately came.

"Who deh hell has said anyt'ing teh you," cried they in thesame breath.

The quiet stranger looked at the door calculatingly.

"Ah, come off," said Pete to the two men. "Don't pick me upfor no jay. Drink yer rum an' git out an' don' make no trouble."

"Oh, deh hell," airily cried Jimmie.

"Oh, deh hell," airily repeated his companion.

"We goes when we git ready! See!" continued Jimmie.

"Well," said Pete in a threatening voice, "don' make notrouble."

Jimmie suddenly leaned forward with his head on one side.He snarled like a wild animal.

"Well, what if we does? See?" said he.

Dark blood flushed into Pete's face, and he shot a luridglance at Jimmie.

"Well, den we'll see whose deh bes' man, you or me," he said.

The quiet stranger moved modestly toward the door.

Jimmie began to swell with valor.

"Don' pick me up fer no tenderfoot. When yeh tackles me yehtackles one of deh bes' men in deh city. See? I'm a scrapper,I am. Ain't dat right, Billie?"

"Sure, Mike," responded his companion in tones of conviction.

"Oh, hell," said Pete, easily. "Go fall on yerself."

The two men again began to laugh.

"What deh hell is dat talkin'?" cried the companion.

"Damned if I knows," replied Jimmie with exaggerated contempt.

Pete made a furious gesture. "Git outa here now, an' don' makeno trouble. See? Youse fellers er lookin' fer a scrap an' it'sdamn likely yeh'll fin' one if yeh keeps on shootin' off yer mout's.I know yehs! See? I kin lick better men dan yehs ever saw in yer lifes.Dat's right! See? Don' pick me up fer no stuff er yeh might be joltedout in deh street before yeh knows where yeh is. When I comes from behinddis bar, I t'rows yehs bote inteh deh street. See?"

"Oh, hell," cried the two men in chorus.

The glare of a panther came into Pete's eyes. "Dat's what I said!Unnerstan'?"

He came through a passage at the end of the bar and swelled down uponthe two men. They stepped promptly forward and crowded close to him.

They bristled like three roosters. They moved their headspugnaciously and kept their shoulders braced. The nervous musclesabout each mouth twitched with a forced smile of mockery.

"Well, what deh hell yer goin' teh do?" gritted Jimmie.

Pete stepped warily back, waving his hands before him to keepthe men from coming too near.

"Well, what deh hell yer goin' teh do?" repeated Jimmie's ally.They kept close to him, taunting and leering. They stroveto make him attempt the initial blow.

"Keep back, now! Don' crowd me," ominously said Pete.

Again they chorused in contempt. "Oh, hell!"

In a small, tossing group, the three men edged for positionslike frigates contemplating battle.

"Well, why deh hell don' yeh try teh t'row us out?" cried Jimmieand his ally with copious sneers.

The bravery of bull-dogs sat upon the faces of the men.Their clenched fists moved like eager weapons.

The allied two jostled the bartender's elbows, glaring at himwith feverish eyes and forcing him toward the wall.

Suddenly Pete swore redly. The flash of action gleamed fromhis eyes. He threw back his arm and aimed a tremendous, lightning-like blow at Jimmie's face. His foot swung a step forward and theweight of his body was behind his fist. Jimmie ducked his head,Bowery-like, with the quickness of a cat. The fierce, answeringblows of him and his ally crushed on Pete's bowed head.

The quiet stranger vanished.

The arms of the combatants whirled in the air like flails. The faces of the men, at first flushed to flame-colored anger, nowbegan to fade to the pallor of warriors in the blood and heat of abattle. Their lips curled back and stretched tightly over the gumsin ghoul-like grins. Through their white, gripped teeth struggledhoarse whisperings of oaths. Their eyes glittered with murderous fire.

Each head was huddled between its owner's shoulders, and armswere swinging with marvelous rapidity. Feet scraped to and frowith a loud scratching sound upon the sanded floor. Blows leftcrimson blotches upon pale skin. The curses of the first quarterminute of the fight died away. The breaths of the fighters camewheezingly from their lips and the three chests were straining andheaving. Pete at intervals gave vent to low, labored hisses, thatsounded like a desire to kill. Jimmie's ally gibbered at times likea wounded maniac. Jimmie was silent, fighting with the faceof a sacrificial priest. The rage of fear shone in all theireyes and their blood-colored fists swirled.

At a tottering moment a blow from Pete's hand struck the allyand he crashed to the floor. He wriggled instantly to his feet andgrasping the quiet stranger's beer glass from the bar, hurled it atPete's head.

High on the wall it burst like a bomb, shivering fragmentsflying in all directions. Then missiles came to every man's hand. The place had heretofore appeared free of things to throw, butsuddenly glass and bottles went singing through the air. They werethrown point blank at bobbing heads. The pyramid of shimmeringglasses, that had never been disturbed, changed to cascades asheavy bottles were flung into them. Mirrors splintered to nothing.

The three frothing creatures on the floor buried themselves ina frenzy for blood. There followed in the wake of missiles andfists some unknown prayers, perhaps for death.

The quiet stranger had sprawled very pyrotechnically out onthe sidewalk. A laugh ran up and down the avenue for the halfof a block.

"Dey've trowed a bloke inteh deh street."

People heard the sound of breaking glass and shuffling feetwithin the saloon and came running. A small group, bending down tolook under the bamboo doors, watching the fall of glass, and threepairs of violent legs, changed in a moment to a crowd.

A policeman came charging down the sidewalk and bouncedthrough the doors into the saloon. The crowd bended and surged inabsorbing anxiety to see.

Jimmie caught first sight of the on-coming interruption. On his feethe had the same regard for a policeman that, when on his truck,he had for a fire engine. He howled and ran for the side door.

The officer made a terrific advance, club in hand. One comprehensivesweep of the long night stick threw the ally to the floor and forcedPete to a corner. With his disengaged hand he made a furious effortat Jimmie's coat-tails. Then he regained his balance and paused.

"Well, well, you are a pair of pictures. What in hell yehbeen up to?"

Jimmie, with his face drenched in blood, escaped up a side street,pursued a short distance by some of the more law-loving, or excitedindividuals of the crowd.

Later, from a corner safely dark, he saw the policeman, theally and the bartender emerge from the saloon. Pete locked thedoors and then followed up the avenue in the rear of the crowd-encompassed policeman and his charge.

On first thoughts Jimmie, with his heart throbbing at battle heat,started to go desperately to the rescue of his friend, but he halted.

"Ah, what deh hell?" he demanded of himself.