And there was a little jarring ring in his voice that arrested the hand of Bill Gregg in the very act of raising the glass.
Ronicky crossed the room quickly, took a glass from the washstand and, returning to the center table, poured a liberal drink of the whisky into it.
"I dunno about my friend," he went on, almost sternly, to the bewildered hotel keeper.

"I dunno about him, but some gents feel so strong about not drinking alone that they'd sooner fight.

Well, sir, I'm one of that kind.

So I say, there's your liquor.

Get rid of it!" The fat man reached the center table and propped himself against it, gasping.