“Has he pulled any one yet for selling?” “No.” “How about the marshal? Is he reasonable?” “I believe he will obey the Mayor’s orders.” “Only question is the Mayor’s nerve, then?” “Yes.” “And you haven’t tried it out?” “No; we’re waiting to strike when we’re sure of winning.” “Hell!” said Rand disgustedly. “He’s got you bluffed. I don’t believe he’s got the nerve to go through with it; but one thing’s sure. He’s got your number, you old skate.” Kite answered hotly: “If you’re so brave, why don’t you go ahead and fight him?” “Are you with me?” “I’m not ready to fight.” Rand got up. “Well, I am. I never dodged a fight yet. You watch, old man; you’ll see the fur fly yet.” He stalked out, head back and shoulders squared aggressively. Kite watched him go, and nodded to himself with a measure of satisfaction. He was perfectly willing to see Wint forced to fight--provided some one besides himself did the forcing. Rand looked like a fighter. * * * * * Wint and Jack Routt met, on the way uptown after supper that day. Routt asked if Wint were going to the carnival again, and Wint nodded. “Keeping an eye on it,” he said. They went to the Post Office first; and Routt stopped at his office. “Come up,” he said. “I’ll only be a minute.” Wint went up with him. Routt dropped a letter or two on his desk; then from a lower drawer produced a bottle. “Don’t mind if I mix myself a highball, do you, Wint?” he asked cheerfully. “I don’t suppose you’ll feel called on to arrest me.” “Go ahead,” Wint said. Routt poured some whisky into a glass, filled it from a siphon. “You’re wise to leave the stuff alone,” he said, between the first and second sips from the glass. “It’s bad stuff unless a fellow can handle it.” Wint nodded uneasily. There was no physical craving in him; nevertheless there was an acute desire to drink for the sake of drinking, for the sake of being like other men, for the sake of defying the danger. “That’s right,” he said. “I’m off it.” “At that,” Routt remarked, the highball half gone, “I guess you’ve shown you can take it or let it alone. I lay off of it myself, once in a while, just to be sure I can.” “Oh, I don’t miss it,” Wint said brazenly. “Sure you don’t,” Routt agreed. “You’re no toper. Never were. Any one likes to drink for the sake of being a good fellow. That’s all I drink for.” He finished the glass, poured in a little more whisky. “Long as I’m sure I can stop when I want to, the way you have done, I go ahead and drink whenever I feel like it.” Wint nodded. Routt looked at him with a curious intentness. “Another glass here, if you’d like,” he said. “I guess not.” Routt laughed. “All right. You know best. If you can’t let it alone when you get started--” “Oh, I can take a drink and quit.” “Want one?” “No, I don’t think so.” Routt chuckled. “Funny to see you afraid of anything,” he said. “I never expected to see it.”