"Butch came in drunk, as I was saying, which he generally is, but he wasn't giving no trouble at all, and nobody felt particular called on to cross him and ask questions. He was real sociable, in fact, and that's how the mess was started." "Go on. I don't get your drift." "Everybody was treatin' Butch like he was the king of the earth and not passin' out any backtalk, all except one tenderfoot----" But here a stream of tremendous profanity burst from Nash. It rose, it rushed on, it seemed an exhaustless vocabulary built up by long practice on mustangs and cattle. At length: "Is that damned fool in Eldara?" "D'you know him?" "No. Anyway, go on. What happened?" "I was sayin' that Butch was feelin' pretty sociable. It went all right in the bars. He was in here and didn't do nothin' wrong. Even paid for all the drinks for everybody in the house, which nobody could ask more even from a white man. But then Butch got hungry and went up the street to Sally Fortune's place." A snarl came from Nash. "Did they let that swine go in there?" "Who'd stop him? Would you?" "I'd try my damnedest." "Anyway, in he went and got the centre table and called for ten dollars' worth of bacon and eggs--which there hasn't been an egg in Eldara this week. Sally, she told him, not being afraid even of Butch. He got pretty sore at that and said that it was a frame-up and everyone was ag'in' him. But finally he allowed that if she'd sit down to the table and keep him company he'd manage to make out on whatever her cook had ready to eat." "And Sally done it?" groaned Nash. "Sure; it was like a dare--and you know Sally. She'd risk her whole place any time for the sake of a bet." "I know it, but don't rub it in." "She fetched out a steak and served Butch as if he'd been a king and then sat down beside him and started kiddin' him along, with all the gang of us sittin' or standin' around and laughin' fit to bust, but not loud for fear Butch would get annoyed. "Then two things come in together and spoiled the prettiest little party that was ever started in Eldara. First was that player piano which Sally got shipped in and paid God-knows-how-much for; the second was this greenhorn I was tellin' you about." "Go on," said Nash, the little snarl coming back in his voice. "Tell me how the tenderfoot walked up and kicked Butch out of the place." "Somebody been tellin' you?" "No; I just been readin' the mind of Eldara." "It was a nice play, though. This Bard--we found out later that was his name--walks in, takes a table, and not being served none too quick, he walks over and slips a nickel in the slot of the piano. Out she starts with a piece of rippin' ragtime--you know how loud it plays? Butch, he kept on talkin' for a minute, but couldn't hear himself think. Finally he bellers: 'Who turned that damned tin-pan loose?' "This Bard walks up and bows. He says: 'Sir, I came here to find food, and since I can't get service, I'll take music as a substitute.'