As they entered the barroom, which was the only way to get into the place, they saw it was well filled with men who were standing about, drinking. Several of them were talking loudly, and the conversation ran to topics connected with cards and mines. At the entrance of Gabe and the two lads, several of the men glanced at them. "Hi! Here's some strangers that haven't had a drink with me!" exclaimed a man, much the worse for liquor. "Step right up, strangers, and name your poison! Set 'em up, Bill. Give my unknown friends the best in the house." "Don't have anything to do with him," advised Gabe in a low voice. The man, however, walked up to Jed, and, placing his hand familiarly on the lad's shoulder said: "Come on up, youngster, and have a drink with old Ned Haverhill! I like your looks! Name your poison!" "Thank you," said Jed, quietly, "but I don't drink." There was a moment of silence. The boy's remark seemed to be a novelty in that place. "What's that?" cried Haverhill, as if he had not heard aright. "I don't drink, thank you," said Jed again. "Not drink! What! Not when Ned Haverhill asks you! Why, dynamite and copper-heads! You've got to drink! What! Why, what do you think of that?" and he turned to the men lined up in front of the bar. There were anxious faces in the saloon then, and several men quietly made their way to the door. For Ned Haverhill was known as one of the worst men of the West, and to annoy him, especially in his present condition, was no small matter. He looked at Jed with bloodshot eyes, but the lad quietly returned the stare. Old Gabe, with a worried look, drew nearer to the lad whom he considered under his protection. CHAPTER XIV THE MARSHAL INTERFERES "Excuse me," said the loud-spoken man, as he made Jed a mocking bow, "but perhaps you did not understand me. I asked for the honor of your company in partaking of a little of the liquid refreshment which they serve in this palatial hotel," and with his big hat he swept the floor. "Once more, stranger, a tenderfoot by your looks, what will you have?" The last words were sternly spoken, and there was a general movement, on the part of those nearest Haverhill, to get out of range of the gun which they momentarily expected him to draw. "I understood you perfectly," replied Jed, "but I can only repeat what I said. I don't drink." "Why--why!" spluttered Haverhill, for he considered himself insulted such was his peculiar code of "honor." "You've got to drink with me, or take the consequences!" He reached toward his revolver, which was in plain sight in his belt. But Jed never quailed. Will, with a white face, started forward to his brother's aid, but Gabe pulled him back. "That'll do!" exclaimed the old miner, as he took a step in advance, and stood beside Jed. "I'm with this lad, and what he says I'll back up." "Oh, you will, eh?" asked Haverhill, with a sneer. "And who are you?"