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But the others now had started shooting and there was a fusillade. The spectators dropped behind anything that promised shelter and the bartender went out of sight under the counter. Only after the revolvers had been emptied did the firing cease. When the smoke lifted, three were lying on the littered floor, one dead and two desperately wounded.
"No, thanks; I'm not drinkin'," answered the bartender. Afterwards he asked, "How did you hurt your face?" The Swede immediately began to boast loudly. "Why, in a fight. I thumped the soul out of a man down here at Scully's hotel." The interest of the four men at the table was at last aroused. "Who was it?" said one. "Johnnie Scully," blustered the Swede. "Son of the man what runs it.
At the last place, however, there was a bartender who knew him and liked him, and let him doze at one of the tables until the boss came back; and also, as he was going out, the man gave him a tip on the next block there was a religious revival of some sort, with preaching and singing, and hundreds of hoboes would go there for the shelter and warmth.
And to the bartender he added: "Leave him be, pardner, unless you're all set for considerable noise in here." "Long as his drinks are paid for," muttered the bartender, "here he stays. But these floaters do make me tired!"
"Don't worry," said the bartender. "We're all awake and alive. And you bet it's great to be alive again! Ain't it," he turned to the Finn woman, "you mother of eight?" The Finn woman made no answer. She was nursing her baby. Cogan Capeador
Instead of a fairy maiden, sweet and demure, a grown-up child as he had vaguely pictured her, he had found a brazen, painted, slangy, gum-chewing flapper, a modern of moderns such as would have broken old Ike Brandon's heart as it doubtless had. The last of the old-timers were a bootlegging bartender and a half-crazy and wholly vicious prospector.
But the agency, after giving him a three-week try out at picket work, submitted him to the further test of a "shadowing" case. That first assignment of "tailing" kept him thirty-six hours without sleep, but he stuck to his trail, stuck to it with the blind pertinacity of a bloodhound, and at the end transcended mere animalism by buying a tip from a friendly bartender.
And now here he was himself—one of Rennie’s riders—involved in a saloon fight with troopers. Drew began to realize that this could be even worse than the physical punishment he and Anse had suffered. "You ... bartender—" The sergeant now looked to Fowler. "What’d you see?" "You ain’t gonna take his word for it, for anythin’ in this mudhole of a town, are you, Sarge?
As Jurgis was excellent at keeping quiet, he soon won the trust of "Buck" Halloran, and was introduced to others as a man who could be depended upon. This acquaintance was useful to him in another way, also before long Jurgis made his discovery of the meaning of "pull," and just why his boss, Connor, and also the pugilist bartender, had been able to send him to jail.
Please rehearse in imagination the entire ritual which was once so familiar, from the inquiring look of the bartender down to the final clang of the cash-register. A visualization of the old free lunch counter is also advisable. All these details will assist the medium to trance herself." Bleak in the meantime had carried a small table on the platform, and placed an empty glass upon it.
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