mself.
"I had my hammer in my hand, and I could 'a' finished him then and had
no more bother."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and, turning, saw a face grinning a
friendly recognition. It was a face whose whole expression was
oleaginous. It was surmounted by a low and shining forehead covered by
reeking black hair, worn rather long, the ends being turned under by
the brush. The mustache was long and drooping, dyed black and profusely
oiled, the dye and the grease forming an inharmonious compound. The
parted lips, which were coarse and thin, displayed an imperfect set of
teeth, much discolored with tobacco. The eyes were light green, with
the space which should have been white suffused with yellow and red. It
was one of those gifted countenances which could change in a moment
from a dog-like fawning to a snaky venomousness.

The man wore a black hat of soft felt; his clothes were black and
glistening with use and grease. He was of medium height, not especially
stout, but still strong and well knit; he moved too briskly for a
tramp, and his eyes were too sly and furtive to belong to an honest
man.

"Well, Samivel!" he began, with a jolly facetiousness, "what's your
noble game this evenin'? You look like you was down on your luck. Is
the fair one unkind?"

Sam turned upon him with an angry gesture.

"Hold your jaw, or I'll break it for you! Ever since I was fool enough
to mention that thing to you, you've been cacklin' about it. I've had
enough of it."

"Go slow, Quaker!" the man rejoined. "If you can't take a joke, I'll
stop jokin'--that settles it. Come along and get a glass of beer, and
you'll feel better."

They soon came to a garden near the lake, and sat down by a little
table at their beer. The consumers were few and silent. The garden was
dimly lighted, for the spring came slowly up that way, and the air was
not yet conducive to out-door idling. The greasy young man laid a dirty
hand on the arm of Sleeny, and said:

"Honor bright, now, old fellow, I didn't mean to rough, you when I said
that. I don't want to hurt your feelings or lose your confidence. I
want you to tell me how you are gettin' along. You ain't got no better
friend than me nowhere."

"Oh," said Sam, sulkily, "I got nothin' to say. She don't no more care
for me than that there mug."

The expression that came over his friend's face at these discouraged
words was not one of sympathetic sorrow. But he put some sympathy into
his voice as h