"You'll want to throw a leg, I bet. Lemme tell you. It's a hell of a town but it's got some fine wimmen; yes, and a few straight banks, too. You're no crabber or piker; I can see that. You go to the North Star. Tell Frank that Jakey sent you. They'll treat you white. You be sure and say Jakey sent you. But for Gawd's sake keep out of the Big Tent." "The Big Tent?" I uttered. "Why so?" "They'll sweat you there," he groaned lugubriously. "Say, friend, could you lend me twenty dollars? You've still got your roll. I ain't a stivver. I'm busted flat." "I'm sorry that I can't accommodate you, sir," said I. "I have no more money than will see me through--and according to your story perhaps not enough." "I've told you of the North Star. You mention Jakey sent you. You'll make more than your twenty back, at the North Star," he urged inconsistent. "If it hadn't been for that damned Big Tent----" and he flopped with a dismal grunt. By this time, all the while conscious of his devouring eyes, I had changed my clothing and now I stood equipped cap-a-pie, with my hat clapped at an angle, and my pantaloons in my boots, and my red silk handkerchief tastefully knotted at my throat, and my six-shooter slung; and I could scarcely deny that in my own eyes, and in his, I trusted, I was a pretty figure of a Westerner who would win the approval, as seemed to me, of My Lady in Black or of any other lady. His reflection upon the Big Tent, however, was the fly in my ointment. Therefore, preening and adjusting with assumed carelessness I queried, in real concern: "What about the Big Tent? Where is it? Isn't it respectable?" "Respectable? Of course it's respectable. You don't ketch your Jakey in no place that ain't. I've a family to think of. You ain't been there? Say! There's where they all meet, in that Big Tent; all the best people, too, you bet you. But I tell you, friend----" He did not finish. An uproar sounded above the other street clamor: a pistol shot, and another--a chorus of hoarse shouts and shrill frightened cries, the scurrying rush of feet, all in the street; and in the hall of the hotel, and the lobby below, the rush of still more feet, booted, and the din of excited voices. My man on the bed popped with the agility of a jack-in-the-box for the window. "A fight, a fight! Shootin' scrape!" In a single motion grabbing coat and hat he was out through the door and pelting down the hall. Overcome by the zest of the moment I pelted after, and with several others plunged as madly upon the porch. We had left the lobby deserted.