Phil looked up in time to intercept a wink between the speaker and one of his gang.
“Hello, stranger! Just blowed in?”
“Yes!” answered Phil. “I am just off the train.”
“Stayin’ long?”
“Possibly!”
“All right,––what’s your poison? It’s my deal and your shout.”
“Nothing for me, thanks!” replied Phil. “I’ve all I require here.”
The broad-shouldered, clean-limbed fellow came over closer to Phil.
“Say, young man,––’tain’t often Don McGregor stands drinks all round, but when he does ’tain’t good for the health to turn him down. You’ve got to have one on me, or you and me ain’t goin’ to be friendly,––see.”
Phil looked him over good-naturedly and smiled.