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She likes to have him around till she leans ag'in' him and rubs the paint off, then she's out shootin' eyes at another one." "Are there others besides Jedlick?" "That bartender boards there at the ho-tel. He's got four gold teeth, and he picks 'em with a quill. Sounds like somebody slappin' the crick with a fishin'-pole.
These same newspaper men are nice fellows, kindly to a fault, if you avoid rubbing them the wrong way. Swear to yourself that you will be genial and affable with every human soul you meet, and that you will never be betrayed into an argument on any American subject, mind with any living being, from the bartender up.
The bartender nodded, and Shinny turned back to Roger. "Martian fizz is nothing more than a little water with sugar in it," he explained. "Yeah, I know," replied Roger. "What about those papers?" "I'll talk to you, spaceman to spaceman," said Shinny, "when you're ready to talk to me, spaceman to spaceman!"
Kind-hearted fellows they were, and they felt sorry for the poor little motherless girl, sorry for "old Doc" too. One after another they went home, feeling just a little ashamed. The bartender, a new one from across the line, a dapper chap with diamonds, was indignant. "I'll give that old man a straight pointer," he said, "that his girl has to stay out of here.
He barked his orders at the bartender, who seemed to know him very well, as though he were addressing a parade formation of badly disciplined troops. Not only did General Thario drink enormously, but he broke all the rules I had ever heard laid down about drinking. He began with a small, squat glass, which I believe is called an Oldfashioned glass, containing half cognac and half ryewhisky.
Jameson's head went up suddenly, and with a drunken smile he reached for the bottle and poured out a stiff potion. He drank it neat. Thomas wiped his palms on his sleeves and ordered a cigar. "Lonesome?" asked the swart bartender. This good-looking chap was rather a puzzle to him. He wasn't waiting for anybody, and he wasn't trying to get drunk.
"I don't want 'em to get restless an' muss up this joint." The bartender took them as if they were covered with some deadly poison, and the outlaw stood unarmed! It came suddenly to Buck what the whole manoeuvre meant. He gave away his guns in order to tempt someone to arrest him. Better the hand of the law than the yellow glare of those following eyes. Yet not a man moved to apprehend him.
At the rear was the lunch counter where two Chinamen were serving soup and stew and coffee to half a dozen men. Thornton, with one of his quick, sharp glances which missed nothing in the room, went to the bar. "Hello, Blackie," he said quietly. The bartender, who in a leisure moment had been bending in deep absorption over an illustrated pink sheet spread on the bar, looked up quickly.
He has seen the beginning of many such cocktail philosophers, and the ending of the same. The way NOT to be a drunkard is never to taste spirits. The bartender knows that. But his customers do NOT know it. At another hour of the day there comes in the older man. This one is the fresh-faced, YOUNG oldish man. He has small, gray side-whiskers.
Without that deftness of hand the one-eyed man might have remained a bartender, and a very sloppy and indifferent one at that; but with it he was the king-pin of the gamblers' trust in Comanche, and his graft was the best in the town. "There it goes, gents!" he said, shaking his long, hound-shaped head with doleful expression of face. "The tide of luck's turned ag'in' me.
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