"Yes--he met a noble lord last time he was in London," continued Mr. Fogo. "And his lordship recognised him for all his pulpit toggery. ’Good Gad!’ says his lordship, ’’tis "Bendy"! And what’s your little game now, my bold hero?’ ’Not a little game at all, my lord,’ says ’Bendigo’--always ready with a word he was. ’I’m fighting Satan, and I’m going to beat him. Behold, my lord, the victory shall be mine,’ he says in his best preaching voice. ’I hope so, "Bendy,"’ answers his lordship; ’but pray have a care that you fight Beelzebub fairer than you did Ben Gaunt, or I may change my side!’ Not that ’Bendigo’ ever fought unfair; but he had to be clever with a giant like Gaunt; and he had to go down--else he’d have stood no chance at all with such a heavy man." "One of three at a birth ’Bendy’ was," concluded the ’Dumpling.’ "I never knew one of triplets to do any good in the world before." At this juncture in the conversation Bartley Crocker entered the bar. He had not heard of the celebrity, but soon, despite his own cares, found himself as interested as the others. The talk of battle inflamed him and, to the delight of the guests assembled, a thing most of them frankly desired actually happened within the hour. David scowled into Bartley’s eyes presently, and the younger, who was quite willing to pick a quarrel with this man of all men, walked across the bar and stood close to him. "Is there any reason why you should pull your face crooked at sight of me, David Bowden?" he asked. Something of the truth between these two was known. Therefore all kept silence. "’Twas scorn of you made me do it. A chap who could kiss a girl, without asking if he might, be a coward." "Bah! that’s the matter--eh? Because I kissed your sister!" "Yes; and if you think ’twas a decent man’s act, it only shows you’re not decent. Shame on you--low-minded chap that you are!" "Not decent, because I kissed a pretty girl? D’you mean that?" "Yes, I do." "Did Rhoda tell you?" "Yes, she did--when I axed her what ailed her." "Well, hear this. You’re a narrow-minded, canting fool; and if women understood you better, you wouldn’t have won Madge Stanbury." "Don’t you name her, or I’ll knock your two eyes into one!" "Do it!" answered Bartley; "and if that’ll help you to start, so much the better." As he spoke and with infinite quickness he raised his hand and pulled David’s nose. A second later they were in the sawdust together. The huge Shillabeer pulled them apart, like a man separates a pair of terriers. Then Simon Snell, Ernest Maunder and Timothy Mattacott held Bartley, while, single-handed, the ’Dumpling’ restrained young Bowden. Immense excitement marked the moment. Only Mr. Fogo puffed his long clay and showed no emotion. A senseless babel choked the air, and then Shillabeer’s heavy voice shouted down the rest and he made himself heard.