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Updated: June 25, 2025
It settled for a moment upon a certain display of debris, bottles, cases, kegs, lying tumbled at an angle of the building. Then it came back to Ju's hard face, and, in passing, it swept over the weather-boarding of the structure which was plastered thick with paint to rescue it from the ravages of drip from the shingle roof to which there was no guttering. "Then I guess we'll get a drink."
"All the same," said Patricia, darkly, "she needs to drop a peg in her own esteem. Conceit is mighty crippling to the runner in the race that Ju's picked out for herself. I'd hate her to be a fizzle, and I'm going to see to it that she gets rid of it." "Very well; only don't be too hard on her," said Elinor, easily. "Come help me with the candy for the night life, won't you?
Makes you think, don't it? Sort o' worries them empty think tanks o' yours." But Ju's satisfaction received an unexpected shaking. "Some wind," observed the slim, lonely drinker, in the blandest fashion. Ju was round on him in a flash, his walrus moustache bristling. "I'm listening," he said, with a calmness which belied his attitude. The other set his glass down on the counter with a bump.
Ju's are the best, though she mustn't know it; funny without being personal. It was terribly hard to get such a mob, too. How many are there altogether, Norn?" "Seventeen," replied Elinor, counting. "I hope it will work all right when I pull the string. I've fixed the bottom of that lantern so it ought to fall out when I give a hard jerk, and all the bags will tumble down in a shower."
Action rather than words was the prevailing feature with these people, and, in his way, Ju Penrose was equal, if not superior, not only in debate, but in the very method these people best understood. A moment later Sikkem took his departure. It was well past midnight when the last man turned out of Ju's bar. But the crowd had not yet scattered to their various homes.
"Guess Ju knowed after all," somebody observed, in a confidential tone to his neighbor. But Ju's ears were as long and sharp as his tongue. He flashed round on the instant, his lantern lowered from the level of the notice board. There was a sort of cold triumph in his manner as his eyes fell upon the speaker. "Know'd?" he cried sharply. "Ain't 'knowin'' my business? Psha!"
And while Yunsan nodded, while I devoted myself to sport and to the Lady Om, while Hendrik Hamel perfected plans for the looting of the Imperial treasury, and while Johannes Maartens schemed his own scheme among the tombs of Tabong Mountain, the volcano of Chong Mong- ju's devising gave no warning beneath us. Lord, Lord, when the storm broke!
But besides the all-important thirst-quenching purpose of his establishment, it had become a sort of bureau for large and small transactions of a ranching nature, and a resort where every sort of card game could be freely indulged in, without regard for the limit of the stakes, and had thus gained for itself the subsidiary title amongst its clientele of "Ju's Poker Joint."
We're passin' through," returned Bud, without hesitation. "You see, we belong down south in the 'T.T. an' 'O country." "That so?" Ju reached a box of cigars and thrust them at the new customer. "Smoke?" he enquired. His generosity was by no means uncalculated. Bud helped himself, and in response to Ju's "Your friend?" he called across to Jeff at the window.
Not the movement of an eyelid escaped him. He literally seemed to devour the unwholesome picture confronting him. The aggressive chin beard, the continual mastication of the cigar which protruded from the corner of the mouth. There was deadly fury lurking behind Ju's cruel eyes. But the looked-for physical display was withheld, and Bud finally turned and walked slowly out of the bar.
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