The pugilist made not very strenuous efforts to put aside those who had gathered about him.
"Where is that guy?" demanded he. "Where is he? I'll fix him for that!"
The insincerity of the voice caught Sheehan's attention; he smiled satirically and winked at Big Slim.
"Get him out of here," ordered the saloon-keeper, briefly. "I don't want the cops here. Get him out and pile him up somewhere till he's sober."
Allen made no very violent protests at being taken out, and after he'd gone he resumed his place behind the bar. Looking with much interest at Scanlon, he said:
"What are you going to have, big fellow?"
Bat waved a hand.
"Not any, thanks. But if you'll pass over a cigarette I'll see what I can do with that."
A box of cigarettes was thrown before him on the polished bar, and as he lighted one of them, Sheehan leaned toward him.
"That was nice work," spoke he. "Pretty clean. Ever done much of it?"