"I'm goin'," he announced. "Give me that bottle."
He poured himself a stiff drink, which he absorbed at a toss of the wrist, and turned away.
"Mr. Mortimer," called Frosty, "did you pay for this?"
"Chalk it down to me," called Harry, without looking back.
Frosty caught the snake eye of his proprietor fixed upon him. He twisted his feet in terror beneath the bar. "It's agin the rules," he called at last, weakly, just as Harry reached the door.
The latter turned in heavy surprise. Then he walked deliberately back to the bar, on which he leaned his elbows.
"Look yere," he said truculently, "ain't I good fer that?"
"Why, yes, I reckon so," cried poor Frosty in an agony. "But it's agin the rules."
"Rules, rules!" sneered Harry. "Since when air you runnin' this joint on rules? Ain't you chalked drinks up to me before? Ain't you? Answer me that. Ain't you?"
"But it's different now," objected Mudge.
"Different, is it? Well, you chalk that drink up to me as I tell yuh, or go plumb to th' devil for the pay. And don't you bother me no more, or I'll have to be harsh to yuh!" Harry loved to bully, and he was working off his irritation. The men in the room stood silent. Harry liked an audience. He went on: "I'll shoot up yore old rat joint yere till you ain't got glass enough left to mend your wall eye, you white-headed little varmint."
Lafond had come softly to the end of the bar. "Naw," he interrupted quietly, "you are not shooting up anything."
Harry turned slowly to him and spread his legs apart. "And did you address me, sir?" he begged with mock politeness. "Would you be so p'lite as to repeat yore remarks?"
"You are not shooting up anything," reiterated Mike, "and it is you who will settle for this drink. Behold the sign which you have read!"
Harry turned to the room wide eyed. "Did you hear the nerve of it?" he inquired. "Tellin' me what I'll do! You damn little greaser," he cried in sudden fury, "I'll show you whether I'm shootin' up anythin'!"
He reached for his gun, remembered on the instant that his holster was empty, and sprang for Lafond. The half-breed calmly lifted a whiskey glass, near which he had taken the precaution to stand, and slopped its contents full in the other's eyes. Harry, blinded, struck against the corner of the bar. Mike slipped to one side and produced his revolver.