“Folks kind of feel uneasy around yuh,” said Johnny soberly. “If them Night Hawks kinda open up on yuh, Irish--” “Yeah, I know what yuh mean, Johnny. Buckshot scatters.” It was a warm night in Dancing Flats. Johnny sat in a chair in front of the hotel, his back against the wall, and watched the people on the street. Outside the glow of lights the night was very dark. He could hear the orchestra in the honkatonk, the babel of voices in the barroom and gambling parlor. The streets of Dancing Flats were quite narrow. Irish wondered who, in that crowd, were Night Hawks, seeking his scalp. It could be anybody. At about half-past eight he wandered over to the Turquoise, went through the barroom and into the gambling parlor, where all the games were going. Johnny and Tucson were sitting in a draw-poker game, and Irish moved over to their table, angling around so his back was against the wall. Several people moved away, and one man left the poker game. It rather amused Irish. His sharp eyes scanned the faces of the crowd, half of them hazy in tobacco smoke. In a few minutes Slim Duarte came through the crowd, stopped to look at the poker game, but moved over close to Irish, who paid no attention to the dapper gambler, until he said: “Delaney, I’d be a lot better satisfied if you’d leave here.” Irish looked sharply at Duarte. “I didn’t get that straight, Duarte,” he said. “It sounded kind of queer to me. Would yuh mind repeatin’ it?” “You heard what I said, Delaney. I don’t want you in this place.” The poker game slowed down. The players had heard enough to know that something was wrong. Irish said: “That’s kind of funny. I thought this was a public place.” “I said--I don’t want yuh here, Delaney.” “Just supposin’ that I don’t care what yuh want, Duarte.” “I’d advise you to listen to reason,” said Duarte coldly. “I know what yuh mean. If I don’t go, you’ll gang up on me with yore bouncers and the coyotes will have a feed. Of course, Duarte, you couldn’t do it alone. Yuh’re too yellow for that. Yeah, I’ll go out. It’s the first time I’ve ever been bounced from a place like this, and I don’t like it. I’ll be outside, in case you want to carry this any further.” Irish turned and walked away, shouldering his way through the crowd, until he got outside. He was more amused than irritated. He backed against the wall of the Turquoise and looked at his watch. It was nearly nine o’clock, and he had almost forgotten that he was supposed to see Nell at that time. He knew where she lived. It was one of the older houses in the town, set back from the street, shaded by huge sycamores. There was a light in the living room. He opened the gate of the white picket fence, turned and closed it, when something hit him a tremendous blow on the head. He tried hard to keep his feet, but blackness enveloped him, and he passed out.