“You want a game, eh?” he drawled, coolly impudent. “I haven’t heard your name, young man.”
“Name,” echoed the Girl with a cynical laugh. “Oh, names out here—”
“My name’s Johnson—” spoke up the man, throwing down the cards on the table.
“Is what?” laughed the Girl, saucily, and, apparently, trying to relieve the strained situation by her bantering tone.
“—Of Sacramento,” he finished easily.
“Of Sacramento,” repeated the Girl in the same jesting manner as before; then, quickly coming out from behind the bar, she went over to him and put out her hand, saying:
“I admire to know you, Mr. Johnson o’ Sacramento.”
Johnson bowed low over her hand.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
“Say, Girl, I—” began Rance, fuming at her behaviour.