of him to succumb. "Hullo, Sugar," he grinned. "I found some, a'right. Now we 'll have some music. Come long."
"There ain't no hurry," she answered. "We 'll take a little walk first."
"No, we won't. We 'll have some music an' somethin' to drink. If you won't make th' music, I will; or shoot up th' machine. Come 'long, Sugar," he leered, pushing open the door with a resounding slam. He nodded to the bartender and apologized. "No harm meant, Friend. It sorta slipped; jus' slipped, tha's all. Th' young lady an' me is goin' to have some music. What? All right for you, Sugar! Then I'll make it myself," and he paraded stiffly toward the inner door.
The bartender leaned suddenly forward. "Keep out of there! You 'll bust that pianner!"
The puncher stopped with a jerk, swung ponderously on his heel and leveled a forefinger at the dispenser of drinks. "I won't," he said. "An' if I do, I 'll pay for it. Come on, Sugar—le's play th' old thing, jus' for spite." Grasping
