When he was halfway to the bar he turned suddenly and made for the stairway door. He passed through quickly, closed the door behind him, and all in the room heard the click of the lock as he turned the key. “Well, I’ll be durned!” exclaimed the leader. As he spoke he drew a revolver from his belt, and, with the quick motions of a Westerner, pointed it toward the door. But he was not so quick as Patsy, who darted forward and knocked his arm up. The revolver went off, but the bullet, instead of crashing through the door and thus endangering Snell’s life, flew into the ceiling. “Now then, gents,” began Bronco Bill, who didn’t want a disturbance in his place. The leader was too mad to be stopped by talk. Turning fiercely upon Patsy, he demanded: “What in thunder do you mean, tenderfoot?” “I was afraid you might hurt somebody,” responded the detective, quietly; “then you’d be sorry.” “Sorry! me sorry!” roared the ruffian; “reckon you don’t know who you’re talking to. I’m Serpent Sam, of the Dead Hills, I am, and no man tells me what I shall or shan’t do. I’ll make you dance for your impudence, you measly tenderfoot!” CHAPTER IV. PATSY’S DANCING LESSON. Serpent Sam, as he called himself, backed into the middle of the room as he spoke. The other men in the crowd yelled with joy, and got together at the other end of the bar from Patsy, most of them. A few stood almost behind their leader. They were grinning at the fun they thought they were going to have with the tenderfoot. Patsy thrust his hands in the side pockets of his coat, and watched, as if with curiosity. He knew exactly what would happen, for he had met wild men from the Western hills before. So, when Serpent Sam blazed at his feet, he did not stir. The first bullet tore a hole in the floor, just in front of his right toe. “Dance, you onery cuss! dance!” yelled Serpent Sam. “I don’t know how,” replied Patsy. “Jump then, you idiot! jump into the air, durn ye! I’ll teach ye!” As he spoke, Serpent Sam fired again. This time the bullet struck so close to the detective’s foot that it jarred it. But no harm was done, and Patsy never stirred. He knew that the first shots would be aimed so as to scare him—not to hit. After that, Serpent Sam might be angered into firing to kill. “For Heaven’s sake, stranger,” called Bronco Bill, “don’t be a fool. Dance for the gentleman. It won’t last long, and nobody will be hurt. Jump and let him have his fun.” Patsy himself saw by the savage glare in Serpent Sam’s eyes that it would be jump or get hit at the next shot. Quick as a flash, therefore, without moving from his place, and before Serpent Sam could cock his revolver again, Patsy drew one of his own barkers and fired. Nobody in the room knew what he was about till they heard the bang! and saw the puff of smoke that rolled away from in front of the detective. “I don’t dance for anybody,” said Patsy, quietly.