Inside, the saloon was packed. Men were smoking, drinking, swearing and exchanging sporting talk. Most of them were loudly dressed, and the saloon lights glinted on many huge diamonds, of which there was a decidedly vulgar display. A good number of the men were of the thick-necked, beefy sort. It was such a saloon as Frank would regard as a “beer joint,” but beer was not the beverage there that night. It was either whisky, champagne, or nothing—and where was the man who was taking nothing? “Kansas Jim will win in a walk.” “Go on, you bluffer! He ain’t in it with the Sucker!” “Hanks won’t last three rounds.” “What have you got that says so besides your mouth?” “I’ve got good horse sense.” “But no rino. Back your talk—back it up!” “Where’s your money?” “Here—right here.” The speaker flourished a “roll.” This talk did not seem to attract much attention, for everybody seemed talking in a similar manner. One man was pounding on the bar. He had a huge red nose and a diamond in his shirt bosom that was as large as an acorn. “I’m Ned Carter of Kansas City!” he cried. “I reckon you gents know me! If any of you has money to throw away just back the Maverick. That steer will get branded deep to-night.” “And I’m Col. McGraw of Topeka!” roared a tall man, who wore a slouch hat thrust far back on his head, and whose drooping mustache and long imperial were iron-gray. “I don’t give a dern whether you gents know me or not; but I’ll bet a cool thousand even that the Maverick will put the Sucker to sleep inside of fifteen rounds if he’s given a square deal.” “Where’s your long green?” “Money talks!” “Put up, colonel!” “Or shut up, colonel.” “Oh, I’m here to back my talk,” declared the Topeka man, fishing into an inside pocket. “Here’s the—— Well, I’m blowed!” “What’s the matter?” “I’ve been touched! Gents, I’ve been robbed of five thousand dollars I took to back the Maverick!” “Ha! ha! ha!” roared the crowd. “Colonel, it won’t go! You are a squealer!” To this the Topeka man roared a vigorous protest, but his words were drowned. Frank’s breath was almost taken away. “Well, this beats!” he gasped. “It must be the police of this city are dead slow, or else they are standing in with the parties who are running this fight. If they were not, they’d be dead certain to catch on.” He looked around for Rafferty and Muldoon, but could see nothing of them. “I’m certain they came in here,” he muttered. “They must be somewhere in this crowd.” He moved about to find them, being obliged to crowd his way about. “Hi, there, young feller! ye’re treadin’ on my toes!” “I beg your pardon,” said Frank, as politely as he could. “Waal, ye’d better!” growled the big man, glaring at him. “What’re you in here fer, anyhow? Ye’re nothin’ but a boy. This ain’t no place fer you.” Frank attempted to move away, but the arm of the man shot out, and Merry was collared. “You go home to your mammy, youngster,” advised the fellow, starting to drag Frank to the door.