The Golden Woman

Pete refilled his glass. His fury was at bursting-point, and Beasley reveled in the devil now looking out of his angry eyes.

"He's gone across ther' now?" he demanded, after swallowing his second drink. His question was ominously quiet.

Beasley saw the man's hands finger the guns at his waist. It was a movement the sight of which gave him a wonderful satisfaction.

"Seems like it," he said. "Though course I can't rightly say. I see him ride off down the trail that way----"

"Here, I'll take another drink. I'm goin' after----"

"Say, you ain't goin' to butt in with two folks courtin'?" cried Beasley, blandly innocent.

But Pete had no reply. He drained his third drink and, flinging the glass down, bolted out of the bar; while Beasley turned with a malicious chuckle, and scrupulously entered up three drinks against the man's name on the slate.

"I'd give somethin' to see it," he muttered. Then he rubbed out the entry he had made. "Guess I'll make it six drinks. He's too rattled to remember."

Ten minutes later a number of men were lounging in the saloon, and Beasley, in the leisure of administering to their wants, was relating to them the story of the afternoon's events. At the conclusion he added his own comment, which was not without definite purpose.

"Say, if they ain't jest like two dogs worritin' a bone you got me plumb beat," he said. Then he added with an air of outraged virtue: "I'd like to say right here she's jest playin' them fellers for their wads. Oh, she's a keen one, her eyes is right on to business. She'll sure have 'em shootin' each other right up. Seems to me a gal like that ain't no right in this yer city. She's a scandal to the place. An' a danger. Wot we fellers needs to figure on is the liberty an' safety of our citizens, an' anything calc'lated to be a danger to that needs to git seen to."

Some of the men concurred half-heartedly. They were men who had come into the camp with the rush, and were anxious to keep in with the saloon-keeper. Still, even they were very little stirred by his appeal. They cared not the least bit in the world who was shot up, or who did the shooting, so long as they were not personally concerned beyond the rôle of spectators.

So for once his mischief fell flat. It was too early in the day to make the impression he needed. They were not sufficiently primed with rye. So Beasley contented himself with insinuating the bottle toward doubtful customers, and easing his disappointment by making all the trade he could.