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Besides, he admitted to himself now, he was rather thankful to the saloon-keeper for providing him with something in the nature of an excuse for such a visit. He was different from those others, who, in perfect confidence and ignorance, required not the least encouragement to persecute Joan with their attentions.
He was a safe blower for a while, but wisely soon abandoned that fascinating but precarious and unremunerative career. From card sharp following the circus and sheet-writer to a bookmaker he graduated into bartender, into proprietor of a doggery. As every saloon is a political club, every saloon-keeper is of necessity a politician.
He'll not be needin' help o' oors, I doot, but there are ithers' and he stopped abruptly and sat down, with no applause following. But when Slavin, our saloon-keeper, rose to reply, the men jumped up on the seats and yelled till they could yell no more. Slavin stood, evidently in trouble with himself, and finally broke out 'It's spacheless I am entirely.
The mother says, "Paul is so good, that if you did not tempt him, entice him here, he would, out of pity to us, stop his evil ways." And the saloon-keeper was jest as polite as any man wus ever seen to be, took his hat off while he told 'em, so I hearn, "that he couldn't go against his own interests: if Paul chose to spend his money there, he should take it."
But when they do come out of the man, instead of entering a herd of heedless swine for their coursers to the deep, may they ride, booted and spurred, every saloon-keeper who has contributed to make Luther Benson what he is, to the very verge of despair, and to the brink of hell's yawning abyss."
Emil Eshler, a friend of Mrs. Hart, and William Hess, a saloon-keeper, both thought it was the body of Mrs. Markland, and were so strongly convinced of it, that they told the mother of their opinion. She and her husband then went to Newport, where she made a very careful examination, which resulted in her declaring that beyond a reasonable doubt the body was that of her daughter.
What had she done to deserve such fate? She briefly reviewed her life in quest of deadly sins committed, and found them not. She had obeyed her mother; obeyed Cady, the saloon-keeper, and Cady's wife; obeyed the matron and the other women in the orphan asylum; obeyed Tom when she came to live in his house, and never run in the streets because he didn't wish her to.
He was a huge, tall man, enormously muscular, with a high head like a block, straight in front, behind and on either side; keen, shifty, pig eyes, pompous cheeks, a raw, wide mouth; slovenly dress, with a big diamond as a collar button and another on his puffy little finger. He was about forty years old, had graduated from blacksmith too lazy to work into prize-fighter, thence into saloon-keeper.
"A graveyard meeting," repeated the saloon-keeper. "Well, and that's what it is in a manner of speaking." Racey stared. "I bite. What's the answer?" The saloon-keeper cleared his throat. "Old Dale's been killed." "Has, huh? Who killed him?" Racey allowed his eyes casually to skim the expressionless faces of the men backed against the walls. "A stranger killed him," replied McFluke, heavily.
The saloon-keeper whose place they were sacking to get the "stuff" for keeping Christmas in their way had come upon them, and Skippy had shot him down while the others ran. A universal shout for vengeance went up from outraged Society. It sounded the death-knell of the gang. It was scattered to the four winds, all except Skippy, who was tried for murder and hanged.
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