The girl paled a little, and, putting her hands behind her, slid carefully off the edge of the bar to the floor. Then she walked with quick firm steps to the offender and slapped him vigorously, first on one side of the head, then on the other. He raised his elbows to defend his ears, whereupon she reached swiftly forward under his arm and slipped his pistol from its open holster; after which she retreated slowly backward, holding both hands behind her. Cheyenne Harry turned red and white, and looked about him helplessly. "You ain't big enough to have a gun!" she said, with scorn. "When you get man enough to tell me you're sorry, I'll give it back." She crossed the room toward the street, dangling the pistol on one finger by the trigger guard. "I reckon I'll go now," she said simply. She passed through the door to the canvas-covered schooner outside. A breathless but momentary silence was broken by Cheyenne Harry. "I know it, boys, I know it," he protested. "Don't say a word. Frosty, trot out the nose paint." Billy was fuming. "_Hell_ of a way to do!" he muttered. "Nice _hospitable_ way to welkim a lady! _Lovely_ idee she gets of this camp!" Harry turned on him slowly. "What's it to yuh?" he asked malevolently. "What's it to yuh, eh? I want to know! Who let _you_ in this, anyway?" He thrust his head forward at Billy. "For the love of Peter the Hermit, shut up, you fellows!" cried Jack Graham. "Don't make ever-lasting fools of yourselves. That girl can take care of herself without any of your help, Billy; and it served you dead right, Harry, and you know it." "That's right, Billy," said several. Harry growled sulkily in his glass. "Ain't I knowin' it?" he objected. "Ain't I payin' fer this drink because I know it? But I ain't goin' t' have any ranikahoo ijit like Billy Knapp rubbin' it in." "Billy didn't mean to rub it in," said Jack Graham, "so shake hands and let up." The threatened quarrel was averted, and the men drank on Harry. Then Mike set up the drinks to the furtherance of their friendly relations. They talked to Mike at length, inquiring his plans, approving his sense in choosing Copper Creek as a residence, congratulating him on his daughter, commending her style. Mike hoped they would make the Little Nugget their evening headquarters. They replied with enthusiasm that they would. Mike made himself agreeable in a quiet way, without saying much. Everybody was "stuck" on him--everybody but Harry. Harry sulked over Billy's insults. His sullen mood had returned. Finally, late in the evening, he pushed his chair back abruptly and went up to the bar. "I'm goin'," he announced. "Give me that bottle." He poured himself a stiff drink, which he absorbed at a toss of the wrist, and turned away. "Mr. Mortimer," called Frosty, "did you pay for this?" "Chalk it down to me," called Harry, without looking back.