“Neither am I,” Carhart replied. “Don’t pay any attention to him.” [Illustration: “Charlie had not raised his revolver,--the muzzle still rested easily on the sill,--but it was pointing straight at Jack Flagg’s heart.”] That was all that was said. The two engineers swung along without a sign of faltering. Jack Flagg slowly raised his weapon and took deliberate aim at Paul Carhart. Still the two came on, not wholly able to conceal their sense of the situation, but, rather, regardless of it. On Carhart’s face there was an expression of stern contempt; Young Van was pale and his eyes were fixed straight before him. At this point it seemed as if the strain must break one way or the other. The men were not ten yards apart--in another moment it would be less than two. A little gasp of admiration came from the watching groups. Flagg heard this, and his hand wavered, but he recovered and took a short step forward. Suddenly the silence was broken by a low whistle. Flagg started, and looked around. Again came the low whistle. This time Flagg looked up, and caught his first sight of Charlie in the window, and hesitated. Charlie had not raised his revolver,--the muzzle still rested easily on the sill,--but it was pointing straight at Jack Flagg’s heart. Flagg lowered his weapon a little way, then looked as if he wished to raise it again, but on second thoughts this seemed hardly wise, for Charlie was shaking his head in gentle disapproval. Then this incident, which had shaved close to tragedy, suddenly ran off into farce. Flagg pocketed his revolver, muttered something that nobody understood, and disappeared through the bar-room door; and after a long breath of mingled relief and disappointment, somebody laughed aloud. As for Charlie, he turned, still playing with his revolver, and looked about the room. “Why!” he exclaimed. “Why! Where’s the ladies?” * * * * * The engineers walked steadily up the street and turned into the hotel. Then Young Van weakened, staggered to a chair, and sat limp and white. “I told you,” he said breathlessly, “I told you I was--no good.” Carhart, before replying, looked at his watch, and his hand shook as he did so. “Brace up, Gus,” he said. “Brace up. I start East in an hour or so, and you are coming with me, you know.” * * * * * THE GAME _A TRANSCRIPT FROM REAL LIFE_ By JACK LONDON Author of “The Call of the Wild,” “The Sea-Wolf,” etc. With Illustrations and Decorations in Colors by Henry Hutt and T. C. Lawrence. Cloth 12mo $1.50