everybody took a cool breath; an' A think mebbee th' wise little man o'
that private car sent across something to help us wash away bitter
memories! Anyway, 'twas a hot night, Wayland! Y' couldn't drink one
of the four under th' table; an' we had cashed our checks at the pay
car! A was playin' wi' th' doctor for partner! Mebbee, it was that
little night cap from the private car, mebbee, well, in an hour or two,
three month's wages for four men was in the middle o' that table; an'
mebbee th' loafers in that saloon didn't sit up! Mebbee, somebody from
that private car didn't saunter in t' look us four fools over! Wayland
man, we won it all, th' doctor an' me! Th' other two wanted to play on
their watches, they wud a' pawned th' clothes off their backs; but we
wouldn't let them! We gave 'em back enough to grub stake 'em back to
their job! Then some one says, th' vera words: A can hear them yet,
'Let's go across an' hear those damned evangelists: there's a white
faced whiskers, an' a little clean shaved jumpin' jack skippin' all
over the backs o' the church seats pretendin' he's Henry Ward Beecher
an' sayin' in a fog horn voice, 'I like that.' Let's go an' raise Hell.

"Wayland, man, we went across! 'Twas all true, there was the white
faced fat man; an' there was the little clean chopped chap jumpin' all
over the backs o' th' seats; an' there was a lot o' snivellin' Saints
in Israel, women that cry an' sissie men that get converted an'
converted at every meetin'! Man, Wayland, A'd like to dump th' job lot
o' such folks out in a cesspool! They do religion more harm than the
Devil! They're about as like what fightin' Christians ought to be as a
spit wad's like a bullet! Well, we went in with a whoop; but God
wasn't out for the sissies that night, Wayland: he was out with a gun
for red blood men! He got us, Wayland! That's all! 'Twasn't the poor
puny preachers, perhaps 'twas th' music: th' fat one cud sing, but when
we came out the doctor was cryin'; poor fellow he killed himself in D.
T.'s later; an' A was all plugged up wi' cold in m' head blowin' m'
nose! 'Boys,' says I, 'here's where I get off. Here's y'r money back.
A've put up a pretty good fight for the Devil so far an' A've earned m'
way! Now, A'm goin' t' fight for God an' earn m' way!' They didn't
want to take the money back. They didn't believe it. A finished my
job on the railroad, then A slummed it in th' cities, this was when the
bishop tri