im at Chicagy." He
looked anxiously at the mayor's face, hoping for some sign of approval
or disapproval, but the mayor's face was noncommittal. "But mebby it
wouldn't," concluded Toole. As a feeler he added: "Would ye be wantin'
me t' have thim made here, Dugan?"

The big mayor patted Toole on the shoulder indulgently.

"It's up t' you, Mike," he said. "Ye know th' way Dugan does things, an'
th' way he likes thim done. I trust thim that I kin trust, an' whin I
put a man on committee I'm done wid th' thing. Of coorse," he added,
putting his mouth close to Toole's ear, and winking at Grevemeyer, "ye
will see that there is a rake-off for me an' th' byes."

"Sure!" said Toole.

The big mayor turned back to the bar and took a drink from his glass.
Grevemeyer took a drink from his glass, also. So did Toole, gravely.
Dugan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and turned to Toole again.

"Mike," he said, "what do ye think? Mebby 'twould do as well t' git a
couple of sicond-hand dongolas an' have thim painted up. If they was in
purty good shape no wan would know th' difference, an' 'twould make a
bit more rake-off fer th' byes, mebby."

"Th' same word was on th' ind o' me tongue, Dugan," said Toole, nodding
his head slowly. "I was considerin' this very minute where I could lay
me hand on a couple of purty good dongolas that has not been used much.
Flannagan could paint thim up fine!"

"Or Stoltzenau could do such paintings," interposed Grevemeyer.

"Sure!" agreed the big mayor. He toyed with his glass a moment. "Mike,"
he said suddenly, "what th' divil is a dongola, anyhow?"

Mike Toole was just raising his glass to his lips with the movements of
one accustomed to hold conversation with the mayor. His left hand rested
on his hip, with his arm akimbo, and his hat was tipped carelessly to
the back of his head. The hand raising his glass stopped short where it
was when he heard the mayor's question. He frowned at the glass--scowled
at it angrily.

"A dongola, Dugan"--he said slowly, and stopped. "A dongola"--he
repeated. "A dongola--did ye ask me what a dongola might be, Dugan?"

The big mayor nodded, and Grevemeyer leaned forward to catch the answer.
Casey, too, leaned on his bar and listened. Alderman Toole raised his
glass to his lips and filled his mouth with the liquor. Instantly he
dashed the glass furiously to the floor. He jerked off his hat and cast
it into a far corner and pulled off his coat, throwing it