is jibing, jeering manner. He was losing money, but with
perfect good cheer. Not so his partner, the Polak. Every loss made
him more savage and quarrelsome. With great difficulty Rosenblatt
was able to keep the game going and preserve peace. The singing,
swaying, yelling, cursing crowd beside them also gave him concern,
and over and again he would shout, "Keep quiet, you fools. The
police will be on us, and that will be the end of your beer, for
they will put you in prison!"

"Yes," jeered the black-bearded man, who seemed to be set on making
a row, "all fools, Russian fools, Polak fools, Galician fools,
Slovak fools, all fools together."

Angry voices replied from all sides, and the noise rose higher.

"Keep quiet!" cried Rosenblatt, rising to his feet, "the police
will surely be here!"

"That is true," cried the black-bearded man, "keep them quiet or
the police will herd them in like sheep, like little sheep, baa,
baa, baa, baa!"

"The police!" shouted a voice in reply, "who cares for the police?"

A yell of derisive assent rose in response.

"Be quiet!" besought Rosenblatt again. He was at his wits' end.
The police might at any time appear and that would end what was
for him a very profitable game, and besides might involve him in
serious trouble. "Here you, Joseph!" he cried, addressing a man
near him, "another keg of beer!"

Between them they hoisted up a keg of beer on an empty cask,
knocked in the head, and set them drinking with renewed eagerness.

"Swine!" he said, seating himself again at the table. "Come, let us play."

But the very devil of strife seemed to be in the black-bearded man.
He gibed at the good-natured Dalmatian, setting the Polak at him,
suggested crooked dealing, playing recklessly and losing his own and
his partner's money. At length the inevitable clash came. As the
Dalmatian reached for a trick, the Polak cried out, "Hold! It is mine!"

"Yes, certainly it is his!" shouted the black-bearded man.

"Liar! It is mine," said the Dalmatian, with perfect good temper,
and held on to his cards.

"Liar yourself!" hissed the little Polak, thrusting his face toward
the Dalmatian.

"Go away," said the Dalmatian. His huge open hand appeared to rest
a moment on the Polak's grinning face, and somehow the little man
was swept from his seat to the floor.

"Ho, ho," laughed the Dalmatian, "so I brush away a fly."

With a face like a demon's, the Polak sprang at his big antagonist,
an open