“Would ye mind openin’ that door?”

Kane flew to the door, unlocked it, and held it wide open.  The bully again began to struggle, but a second inhalation of the hartshorn quelled him, and enabled his captor to drag him to the door.  As they emerged upon the sidewalk, the bully, with a final desperate struggle, freed his arm and grasped his pistol at his hip-pocket, but at the same moment Allen deliberately caught his hand, and with a powerful side throw cast him on the pavement, retaining the weapon in his own hand.  “I’ve one of my own,” he said to the prostrate man, “but I reckon I’ll keep this yer too, until you’re better.”

The crowd that had collected quickly, recognizing the notorious and discomfited bully, were not of a class to offer him any sympathy, and he slunk away followed by their jeers.  Allen returned quietly to the shop.  Kane was profuse in his thanks, and yet oppressed with his simple friend’s fatuous admiration for a woman who could keep such ruffians in her employ.  “You know who that man was, I suppose?” he said.

“I reckon it was that ‘er prize-fighter belongin’ to that high-toned lady,” returned Allen simply.  “But he don’t know anything about RASTLIN’, b’gosh; only that I was afraid o’ bringin’ on that heart trouble, I mout hev hurt him bad.”

“They think”—­hesitated Kane, “that—­I—­was rough in my treatment of that woman and maliciously cut off her hair.  This attack was revenge—­or”—­he hesitated still more, as he remembered Dr. Sparlow’s indication of the woman’s feeling—­“or that bully’s idea of revenge.”

“I see,” nodded Allen, opening his small sympathetic eyes on Kane with an exasperating air of secrecy—­“just jealousy.”

Kane reddened in sheer hopelessness of explanation.  “No; it was earning his wages, as he thought.”

“Never ye mind, pard,” said Allen confidentially.  “I’ll set ’em both right.  Ye see, this sorter gives me a show to call at that thar restaurant and give him back his six-shooter, and set her on the right trail for you.  Why, Lordy!  I was here when you was fixin’ her—­I’m testimony o’ the way you did it—­and she’ll remember me.  I’ll sorter waltz round thar this afternoon.  But I reckon I won’t be keepin’ you from your work any longer.  And look yar!—­I say, pard!—­this is seein’ life in ’Frisco—­ain’t it?  Gosh!  I’ve had more high times in this very shop in two days, than I’ve had in two years of St. Jo.  So long, Mr. Kane!” He waved his hand, lounged slowly out of the shop, gave a parting glance up the street, passed the window, and was gone.

The next day being a half-holiday for Kane, he did not reach the shop until afternoon.  “Your mining friend Allen has been here,” said Doctor Sparlow.  “I took the liberty of introducing myself, and induced him to let me carefully examine him.  He was a little shy, and I am sorry for it, as I fear he has some serious organic trouble with his heart and ought to have a more thorough examination.”  Seeing Kane’s unaffected concern, he added, “You might influence him to do so.  He’s a good fellow and ought to take some care of himself.  By the way, he told me to tell you that he’d seen Madame le Blanc and made it all right about you.  He seems to be quite infatuated with the woman.”