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Updated: May 31, 2025
A faint hope stirred in Dan as she slid down from her perch and darted into the saloon next door. She had wasted no time in conjecture or sympathy; she had plunged at once into action. When she returned, the fat saloonkeeper lumbered in her wake: "Dose tings is too many, already," he protested. "I got no place to put my coal once de cold vedder comes." "It ain't come yet," said Nance.
And there wuz some mothers whose little boys of seven and eight had been coaxed with brandy-soaked candy into another saloon Perkins owned. For this saloonkeeper had boasted, Perkins backin' him, that money spent enticin' the young and innocent to drink, whilst they wuz easily influenced, wuz money well spent.
To his surprise, as he attacked the dinner, he found Quincy and Benson, each with a similar outfit of tinware, toying with the food, and paying no attention to the polyglot discourse of the other men regarding the ship, the mates, and the food. But they glared menacingly at Rogers as he entered. "This your work, Rogers?" demanded Quincy. "Were you in cahoots with that saloonkeeper?"
"Besides his mother'll be here to-morrow, I 'spect." "Mebbe she vill, und mebbe she von't," said the saloonkeeper astutely. "I don't want dat I should mess up myself mid dis here piziness." "The things ain't goin' to hurt your old coal shed none!" began Nance, firing up; then with a sudden change of tactics, she slipped her hand into Mr. Jack's fat, red one, and lifted a pair of coaxing blue eyes.
"Hello, Jack," said the saloonkeeper, when he entered they call all foreigners and unskilled men "Jack" in Packingtown. "Where've you been?" Jurgis went straight to the bar. "I've been in jail," he said, "and I've just got out. I walked home all the way, and I've not a cent, and had nothing to eat since this morning. And I've lost my home, and my wife's ill, and I'm done up."
His eyes were bloodshot, a strange pallor left his features ghastly, and the combination imparted a subtle appearance of terror which the shrewd saloonkeeper interpreted in his own fashion as he unfolded his information, and its deductions. The bar was quite empty otherwise, and the opportunity had been too good for O'Brien to miss. "Say, I was mighty glad to get them kegs the other night safely.
Drinking at the bar were two white men whom Jim recognized as foremen. "You two fellows are fired," drawled Jim. "Turn in your time and leave camp this afternoon." The Big Boss is king on a project. The two men meekly set down their glasses and filed out of the tent. It was something to have been fired by the big boss himself. "And who are you?" asked the saloonkeeper.
If it's criminal, the men engaged in it ought to be sent to prison. If it ain't criminal, they ought to be protected and encouraged to make all the profit they honestly can. If it's right to tax a saloonkeeper $1000, it's right to put a heavy tax on dealers in other beverages in milk, for instance and make the dairymen pay up.
If you can't handle your proposition right then I quit you." Charlie suddenly shifted his position, and leaned his body against the counter. The saloonkeeper looked for that sign which was to re-establish his confidence. It was not forthcoming. For a moment the half-drunken man leaned his head upon one hand, and his face was turned from the other behind the bar. O'Brien became impatient.
"Guess you'd be mighty int'rested if you was sittin' on a roof with the house afire under you, an' you just got a peek of a ladder wagon comin' along, an' was guessin' if it 'ud get around in time." Helen's eyes twinkled. "I s'pose I should," she admitted. "S'pose nuthin'." The saloonkeeper laughed a short, hard laugh. "It's dead sure. But most of them boys are feelin' mighty good.
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