“Godwin,” resumed Donnegan, “was talented in many ways.”

The big man showed his teeth in silence; for since Godwin proposed the sacrifice of the servant to preserve himself, George had apparently altered his opinion of the gambler.

“A talented man, George, but he knew nothing about coffee.  It should never boil.  It should only begin to cream through the crust.  Let that happen; take the pot from the fire; put it back and let the surface cream again.  Do this three times, and then pour the liquid from the grounds and you have the right strength and the right heating.  You understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And concerning the frying of bacon—­”

At this point the interruption came in the shape of four men at the open door; and one of these Donnegan recognized as the real estate dealer, who had shrewdly set up tents and shacks on every favorable spot in The Corner and was now reaping a rich harvest.  Gloster was his name.  It was patent that he did not see in the man in the silk dressing robe the unshaven miscreant of the day before who had rented the two tents.

“How’dee,” he said, standing on the threshold, with the other three in the background.

Donnegan looked at him and through him.

“My name is Gloster.  I own this shack and I’ve come to find out why you’re in it.”

“George,” said Donnegan, “speak to him.  Tel! him that I know houses are scarce in The Corner; that I found this place by accident vacant; that I intend to stay in it on purpose.”

George Washington Green instantly rose to the situation; he swallowed a vast grin and strode to the door.  And though Mr. Gloster’s face crimsoned with rage at such treatment he controlled his voice.  In The Corner manhood was apt to be reckoned by the pound, and George was a giant.

“I heard what your boss said, buddie,” said Gloster.  “But I’ve rented this cabin and the next one to these three gents and their party, and they want a home.  Nothing to do but vacate.  Which speed is the thing I want.  Thirty minutes will—­”

“Thirty minutes don’t change nothing,” declared George in his deep, soft voice.

The real estate man choked.  Then:  “You tell your boss that jumping a cabin is like jumping a claim.  They’s a law in The Corner for gents like him.”

George made a gesture of helplessness; but Gloster turned to the three.

“Both shacks or none at all,” said the spokesman.  “One ain’t big enough to do us any good.  But if this bird won’t vamoose—­”

He was a tolerably rough-appearing sort and he was backed by two of a kind.  No doubt dangerous action would have followed had not George shown himself capable of rising to a height.  He stepped from the door; he approached Gloster and said in a confidential whisper that reached easily to the other three:  “They ain’t any call for a quick play, mister.  Watch yo’selves.  Maybe you don’t know who the boss is?”