It was at this point that Charming Billy decided to have a word.  “Here, break away, there!” he yelled, pushing the belligerent sheepherder to one side.  “Hands off that long person!  That there’s my dill pickle!”

[Illustration:  “HANDS OFF THAT LONG PERSON!  THAT THERE’S MY DILL PICKLE.”]

Mr. Dill was released, and Billy fancied hazily that it was because he so ordered; as a matter of fact, Mr. Dill, catching sight of him there, had thrown the men and their importunities off as though they had been rough-mannered boys.  He literally plowed his way through them and stopped deprecatingly before Billy.

“It is getting late,” he observed, mildly reproachful.  “I thought I would show you the way to my room, if you don’t mind.”

Billy stared down at him.  “Well, I’m going to be busy for a while yet,” he demurred.  “I’ve got to lick this misguided son-of-a-gun that’s blatting around wanting to eat me alive—­and I got my eyes on your friend in the rear, there, that’s saying words about you, Dilly.  Looks to me like I’m going to be some occupied for quite a spell.  You run along to bed and don’t yuh bother none about me.”

“The matter is not so urgent but what I can wait until you are ready,” Mr. Dill told him quietly, but with decision.  He folded his long arms and ranged himself patiently alongside Billy.  And Billy, regarding him uneasily, felt convinced that though he tarried until the sun returned Mr. Dill would stand right there and wait—­like a well-broken range-horse when the reins are dropped to the ground.  Charming Billy did not know why it made him uncomfortable, but it did and he took immediate measures to relieve the sensation.

He turned fretfully and cuffed the clamorous sheepherder, who seemed to lack the heart for actual hostilities but indulged in much recrimination and was almost in tears.  “Aw, shut up!” growled Billy.  “A little more uh that war-talk and I’ll start in and learn yuh some manners.  I don’t want any more of it.  Yuh hear?”

It is a fact that trifles sometimes breed large events.  Billy, to make good his threat, jumped off the bar.  In doing so he came down upon the toes of Jack Morgan, the hospitable soul who had insisted upon treating Mr. Dill and who had just come up to renew the argument.  Jack Morgan was a man of uncertain temper and he also had toes exceedingly tender.  He struck out, missed Billy, who was thinking only of the herder, and it looked quite as though the blow was meant for Mr. Dill.

After that, things happened quickly and with some confusion.  Others became active, one way or the other, and the clamor was great, so that it was easily heard down the street and nearly emptied the other saloons.

When the worst of it was over and one could tell for a certainty what was taking place, Charming Billy was holding a man’s face tightly against the bar and was occasionally beating it with his fist none too gently.  Mr. Dill, an arm’s length away, had Jack Morgan and one other offender clutched by the neck in either hand and he was solemnly and systematically butting their heads together until they howled.  The bartender had just succeeded in throwing the sheepherder out through the back door, and he was wiping his hands and feeling very well satisfied with himself.