When the barkeeper had gone to do her bidding, the Girl picked up an egg, and, poising it over a glass, she went on: “Say, look ’ere, Sonora, before I crack this ’ere egg, I’d like to state that eggs is four bits apiece. Only two hens left--” She broke off short, and turning upon Handsome, who had been gradually sidling up until his elbows almost touched hers, she repulsed him a trifle impatiently: “Oh, run away, Handsome!” A flush of pleasure at Handsome’s evident discomfiture spread over Sonora’s countenance, and comical, indeed, to the Girl, was the majestic air he took on when he ordered recklessly: “Oh, crack the egg--I’ll stand for it.” But Sonora’s fancied advantage over the others was of short duration, for the next instant Nick, stepping quickly forward with a drink, handed it to the Girl with the words: “Regards of Blonde Harry.” Again Sonora experienced a feeling akin to jealousy at what he termed Blonde Harry’s impudence. It almost immediately gave way to a paroxysm of chuckling; for, the Girl, quickly taking the glass from Nick’s hand, flung its contents into a nearby receptacle. “There--tell ’im that it hit the spot!” She laughed. Nick roared with the others, but on the threshold of the dance-hall he paused, hesitated, and finally came back, and advised in a low tone: “Throw around a few kind words, Girl--good for the bar.” The Girl surveyed the barkeeper with playful disapproval in her eye. However advantageous might be his method of working up trade, she disdained to follow his advice, and her laughing answer was: “Oh, you Nick!” The peal of laughter that rung in Nick’s ears as he disappeared through the door, awakened Ashby and brought him instantly to his feet. Despite his size, he was remarkably quick in his movements, and in no time at all he was standing before the bar with a glass, which he had filled from the bottle that had stood in front of him on the table, and was saying: “Compliments of Wells Fargo.” “Thank you,” returned the Girl; and then while she shook the prairie oyster: “You see we live high-shouldered here.” “That’s what!” put in Sonora with a broad grin. “What cigars have you?” asked Ashby, at the conclusion of his round of drinks. “Regalias, Auroas and Eurekas,” reeled off the Girl with her eye upon Billy Jackrabbit, who had quietly come in and was sneaking about in an endeavour to find something worth pilfering. “Oh, any will do,” Ashby told her, with a smile; and while he was helping himself from a box of Regalias, Nick suddenly appeared, calling out excitedly: “Man jest come in threatenin’ to shoot up the furniture!” “Who is it?” calmly inquired the Girl, returning the cigar-box to its place on the shelf. “Old man Watson!” “Leave ’im shoot,--he’s good for it!” “Nick! Nick!” yelled several voices in the dance-hall where old man Watson was surely having the time of his life.