Fritz was not sorry. He did not want to hurt any one unless forced to, and yet was bound to defend himself.
Toward evening the loungers, one by one, quitted the tavern, until Fritz and Fat John were the only ones in the bar-room.
Then it was that the latter spoke.
"I say, young feller," he said, "you're a hextrordinary chap, and if it wouldn't be haskin' too much, I'd like to inquire what brings you here?"
"Vel, pizness, I dinks," Fritz replied, "und judgin' py der latest demonstrations, I vil haff lots off id."
"You had better look out sharp for Number One, I tell you, for though this ain't counted no hard town, they ginerally pitch onto a stranger and try to bulldoze him into leavin' by settin' Bully Jake onto him."
"I vas tumbled to dot already," Fritz replied; "but der virst one vot attempted it didn't make so much success."
"No; but that ain't saying you'll have as big luck next time. You see, his honor, Mr. Greyville, owns most of the property hereabouts, an' he's as big feeling as a duke, and won't allow no one around 'cept what bows to his will."
"Vel, ve vil see apoud dot," Fritz muttered. "I dinks dey don'd vas make mooch bulldozing me. I vant to ask you von question—don'd this man Greyville be Captain Gregg, der smuggler?"
The fat host of the Lion's Paw gave a start. The question was evidently something of a surprise to him.