Late in the evening Fighting Dan Grey appeared. He was “liquored up” and looking for trouble. He was dodged by all who could avoid him, but led men by twos and threes to the bar to drink his health. He was well supplied with the yellow metal, and everybody had to drink whom he invited. Later Dan’s mood changed, and he wanted to play cards. He roped in one man, and desired two others. Far back in a corner the scout and the Laramie man sat smoking and watching the constantly changing aspect of a night gathering of Westerners going through all stages of acquiring a state of intoxication. Fighting Dan espied them, and led his victim thither. “Hyar are ther ombrays thet I propose ter hev er game er cyards with.” Dan slammed a table across in front of the scout and Hickok, churned the partner he had impressed into service into a chair opposite one for himself, and said: “Thar! I reckon the’s goin’ to be a game. Hyar, yew long-haired fellar, ketch holt an’ shake ’em out.” Buffalo Bill smilingly humored the big, black bad man, whose counterpart in character he had seen many times. Hickok, too, sat in good-naturedly, and the quartette proceeded in a friendly game. The scout and the Laramie man won the first hand, and then Fighting Dan insisted that all go to the bar and “wash ’er down” at his expense. The scout and Hickok declined. The bad man was in a towering rage at once. He smote the table with a bang that attracted the attention of every man in the room, and then he bellowed: “So yer refuses to swaller pizen with me, does ye? Waal, Dan Grey won’t eat that kind o’ dirt fr’m no long-haired ombray this side o’ Tophet.” Buffalo Bill sat calmly and smilingly, awaiting the subsidence of the bad man’s spasm. Hickok held the deck, and idly shuffled the cards over and over. The other seized the opportunity to escape. Half a hundred men turned all attention to the corner where sat the unruffled scout confronted by the roaring, dark-visaged giant. Little Cayuse had entered, followed by Skibo. They were attracted to the scene at once. Skibo edged through the crowd until he was at Buffalo Bill’s back, and said in an undertone: “’Scuse me, Mars’ Billyum, but don’t you want ole Skibo to squelch ’im?” “No, no, Skibo; thanks. I guess it will soon blow over.” But it didn’t blow over, and the bad man worked himself into a perfect frenzy while raving at the unterrified scout. “I’ll make a pin wheel o’ you over my head,” he roared, leaning forward and grasping Buffalo Bill by the shoulders. When he had done that the man from Laramie suddenly kicked the table over, and left nothing between the bad man and his intended victim. Dan attempted to change the hold of one of his huge hands from the scout’s shoulder to the thigh for his usual spectacular performance, but he found his own wrist suddenly caught in a viselike grip.