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Besides the proprietor and the Mexican there were now but three men left in the room. One of them was Gallup's man, who cooked, did chores, and, when need was, helped with the still and served drinks. At a look from his employer he left the room. Of the others, one was old man Parker, an ancient to be despised because feebleness made of him a negligible quantity in any affair based upon the prowess of physical manhood; the second was a youngster who stood in awe of Gallup and who looked ill at ease as the hotel man stared at him.

"Better beat it, Tim," said Gallup. "And take old Parker along."

"But, look here, Gallup; you ain't got any right...."

"It's my house," said Gallup. "There's going to be no crooked work here and you know it. Joe goes clear. If he wants to talk later on, why, then he can come out and talk with you boys outside. You know you'll find Barny and his friends not so far away."

Tim's self-pride, unimportant as it was, perked up at the realization that Gallup was actually discussing a matter of import with him. He tried to play the man.