Sandy rose slowly, gazing round stupidly.
‘He don’t know what hit him,’ laughed Keefe.
This roused the Highlander, and saying, ‘I’ll settle you afterwards, Mister Keefe,’ he rushed in again at Slavin. Again Slavin met him again with his left, staggered him, and, before he fell, took a step forward and delivered a terrific right-hand blow on his jaw. Poor Sandy went down in a heap amid the yells of Blaney, Keefe, and some others of the gang. I was in despair when in came Baptiste and Graeme.
One look at Sandy, and Baptiste tore off his coat and cap, slammed them on the floor, danced on them, and with a long-drawn ‘sap-r-r-r-rie,’ rushed at Slavin. But Graeme caught him by the back of the neck, saying, ‘Hold on, little man,’ and turning to Slavin, pointed to Sandy, who was reviving under Nelson’s care, and said, ‘What’s this for?’
‘Ask him,’ said Slavin insolently. ‘He knows.’
‘What is it, Nelson?’
Nelson explained that Sandy, after drinking some at the stable and a glass at the Black Rock Hotel, had come down here with Keefe and the others, had lost his money, and was accusing Slavin of robbing him.
‘Did you furnish him with liquor?’ said Graeme sternly.
‘It is none of your business,’ replied Slavin, with an oath.
‘I shall make it my business. It is not the first time my men have lost money in this saloon.’