Mr.
Gale has only sufficient provisions to winter the men already in this district." "I can take care of myself," said the man, angrily, "whether I'm broke or not, and I don't want any of your interference." He shot a quick glance at Poleon Doret, but the Frenchman's face was like wood, and his hand still held the neck of the whiskey bottle he had set out for the stranger before the others entered.

Gale leaned against the opposite counter, his countenance inert but for the eyes, which were fixed upon the Lieutenant.
"Come," said the officer, peremptorily, "I have heard all about you, and you are not the kind of citizen we want here, but if you have enough money for an outfit I can't send you away.

If you haven't--" "I'm broke," said the man, but at the note in his voice Poleon Doret's muscles tightened, and Burrell, who also read a sinister message in the tone, slid his heavy service revolver from its holster beneath his coat.
He had never done this thing before, and it galled him.

He had never drawn a weapon on a man, and this playing at policeman became suddenly most repugnant, stirring in him the uncomfortable feeling that he was doing a mean thing, and not only a mean thing, but one of which he ought to be heartily ashamed.

He felt decidedly amateurish, especially when he saw that the man apparently intended no resistance and made no move.