Other men got up from their chairs and walked, with apparent unconcern, away from the center of the room, so that when Calumet carelessly tossed a coin on the bar in payment for a drink which he ordered, only three men remained at the bar with him.
He had taken quick note of these men.

They were Neal Taggart; a tall, lanky, unprepossessing man with a truculent eye rimmed by lashless lids, and with a drooping mustache which almost concealed the cruel curve of his lips, whom he knew as Denver Ed--having met him several times in the Durango country; and a medium-sized stranger whom he knew as Garvey.

The latter was dark-complexioned, with a hook nose and a loose-lipped mouth.
Calumet did not appear to notice them.

He poured his glass full and lifted it, preparatory to drinking.

Before it reached his lips he became aware of a movement among the three men--Garvey had left them and was standing beside him.
"Have that on me," said Garvey, silkily, to Calumet.
Calumet surveyed him with a glance of mild interest.