The one accosted as "Harry," a big, heavily-built man about thirty, with a sneer on his evilly handsome, sinister face, answered slowly:
"Oh, _him_. I guess he must be one of them Mounted Police ginks you hear tell of over our side of the Line. Kind of 'prairie cop,'" he added contemptuously, and spat.
The epithet of "cop" was one held in peculiar detestation by members of the Force and, coupled with the fellow's offensive manner, became a gratuitous insult that was almost more than the Sergeant could stand, for a slight titter followed, and all the faces--with the exception of the bartender's-wore a sardonic grin at the policeman's discomfiture.
Choking with silent fury, he glowered warily with swift calculation around him.
"No, it wouldn't do," he reflected. There would be too many witnesses, like in that last business at Elbow Vale; and fearful of his own ungovernable temper, lest any ensuing altercation should precipitate the inevitable right then and there, he held his peace.
Lowering his voice, his elbows on the bar, he spoke quietly to the bartender:
"Who's them two fellers at the end there, Pete--strangers?"
"Yes. I dunno who they are," said that worthy in the same low tone, busy polishing glasses the while. "They blew in off'n the West-bound. Jest stiffs, I guess, Sergeant. They was laughin' fit to split 'bout somethin' when they first come in."
Benton finished his beer and, turning, pushed through the swing door, a vindictive purpose seething in his mind. Crossing over to the dark side of the street, he patiently waited.
"I'll 'vag' the two of them," he muttered savagely.
The rain had ceased and a few stars began to appear. It was nearly closing time and his watch was of short duration.
At the appointed time, with much bad language and noisy argument, the bar slowly emptied, the last to leave being "Harry" and his companion; the latter quarrelsomely drunk, and expostulating with the bartender, who was escorting him to the door.
"No chance," came the answer. "You've got enough below. Beat it!"
The speech was accompanied with a sudden shove, and the door banged to.
"Aw, come on, yer crazy mutt!" he heard the soberer voice of Harry say, and saw him walk slowly on down the street, his bibulous comrade unsteadily following.