why is only he arrested, when every saloon keeper in the
neighborhood does the same thing?"

"Now, sir," said the judge, "don't waste any more of my time. What's the
next case?"

A look we have mentioned once or twice came into Peter's face. He
started to leave the court, but encountered at the door one of the
policemen whom he was "friends with," according to the children, which
meant that they had chatted sometimes in the "angle."

"What sort of a man is Dennis Moriarty?" he asked of him.

"A fine young fellow, supporting his mother and his younger brothers."

"Why is Justice Gallagher so down on him?"

The policeman looked about a moment. "It's politics, sir, and he's had
orders."

"From whom?"

"That's more than we know. There was a row last spring in the primary,
and we've had orders since then to lay for him."

Peter stood and thought for a moment. "What saloon-keeper round here has
the biggest pull?" he asked.

"It's all of them, mostly, but Blunkers is a big man."

"Thank you," said Peter. He stood in the street thinking a little. Then
he walked a couple of blocks and went into Blunkers's great gin palace.

"I want to see the proprietor," he said.

"Dat's me," said a man who was reading a paper behind the bar.

"Do you know Justice Gallagher?"

"Do I? Well, I guess," said the man.

"Will you do me the favor to go with me to his court, and get him to
remit Dennis Moriarty's fine?"

"Will I? No. I will not. Der's too many saloons, and one less will be
bully."

"In that case," said Peter quietly, "I suppose you won't mind my closing
yours up?"

"Wot der yer mean?" angrily inquired the man.

"If it comes to closing saloons, two can play at that game."

"Who is yer, anyway?" The man came out from behind the bar, squaring his
shoulders in an ugly manner.

"My name's Stirling. Peter Stirling."

The man looked at him with interest. "How'll yer close my place?"

"Get evidence against you, and prosecute you."

"Dat ain't de way."

"It will be my way."

"Wot yer got against me?"

"Nothing. But I intend to see Moriarty have fair play. You want to fight
on the square too. You're not a man to hit a fellow in the dark."

Peter was not flattering the man. He had measured him and was telling
him the result of that measure. He told it, too, in a way that made the
other man realize the opinion behind the words.

"Come on," said Blunkers, good-naturedly.

They went over to the court, and a w