“Get up when you’re spoke to” cried Silent.  “Ain’t you learned no manners?  An’ git up quick!”

Dan rose, smiling his surprise.

“Your friend has a sort of queer way of talkin’,” he said to Haines.

“Don’t stan’ there like a fool.  Trot over to the bar an’ git me a jolt of red-eye.  I’m dry!” thundered Silent.

“Sure!” nodded Whistling Dan amiably, “glad to!” and he went accordingly towards the bar.

The men about the room looked to each other with sick smiles.  There was an excuse for acquiescence, for the figure of Jim Silent contrasted with Whistling Dan was like an oak compared with a sapling.  Nevertheless such bland cowardice as Dan was showing made their flesh creep.  He asked at the bar for the whisky, and Morgan spoke as Dan filled a glass nearly to the brim.

“Dan,” he whispered rapidly, “I got a gun behind the bar.  Say the word an’ I’ll take the chance of pullin’ it on that big skunk.  Then you make a dive for the door.  Maybe I can keep him back till you get on Satan.”

“Why should I beat it?” queried Dan, astonished.  “I’m jest beginnin’ to get interested in your place.  That tall feller is sure a queer one, ain’t he?”

With the same calm and wide-eyed smile of inquiry he turned away, taking the glass of liquor, and left Morgan to stare after him with a face pale with amazement, while he whispered over and over to himself:  “Well, I’ll be damned!  Well, I’ll be damned!”

Dan placed the liquor before Silent.  The latter sat gnawing his lips.

“What in hell do you mean?” he said.  “Did you only bring one glass?  Are you too damn good to drink with me?  Then drink by yourself, you white-livered coyote!”

He dashed the glass of whisky into Dan’s face.  Half blinded by the stinging liquor, the latter fell back a pace, sputtering, and wiping his eyes.  Not a man in the room stirred.  The same sick look was on each face.  But the red devil broke loose in Silent’s heart when he saw Dan cringe.  He followed the thrown glass with his clenched fist.  Dan stood perfectly still and watched the blow coming.  His eyes were wide and wondering, like those of a child.  The iron-hard hand struck him full on the mouth, fairly lifted him from his feet, and flung him against the wall with such violence that he recoiled again and fell forward onto his knees.  Silent was making beast noises in his throat and preparing to rush on the half-prostrate figure.  He stopped short.

Dan was laughing.  At least that chuckling murmur was near to a laugh.  Yet there was no mirth in it.  It had that touch of the maniacal in it which freezes the blood.  Silent halted in the midst of his rush, with his hands poised for the next blow.  His mouth fell agape with an odd expression of horror as Dan stared up at him.  That hideous chuckling continued.  The sound defied definition.  And from the shadow in which Dan was crouched his brown eyes blazed, changed, and filled with yellow fires.