would never dare think of attacking their wisdom and
courage. Besides, it was popular that this gambler had a real wife and
two real children in a neat cottage in a suburb, where he led an
exemplary home life; and when any one even suggested a discrepancy in
his character, the crowd immediately vociferated descriptions of this
virtuous family circle. Then men who led exemplary home lives, and men
who did not lead exemplary home lives, all subsided in a bunch,
remarking that there was nothing more to be said.

However, when a restriction was placed upon him--as, for instance,
when a strong clique of members of the new Pollywog Club refused to
permit him, even as a spectator, to appear in the rooms of the
organization--the candor and gentleness with which he accepted the
judgment disarmed many of his foes and made his friends more
desperately partisan. He invariably distinguished between himself and
a respectable Romper man so quickly and frankly that his manner
actually appeared to be a continual broadcast compliment.

And one must not forget to declare the fundamental fact of his entire
position in Romper. It is irrefutable that in all affairs outside of
his business, in all matters that occur eternally and commonly between
man and man, this thieving card-player was so generous, so just, so
moral, that, in a contest, he could have put to flight the consciences
of nine-tenths of the citizens of Romper.

And so it happened that he was seated in this saloon with the two
prominent local merchants and the district-attorney.

The Swede continued to drink raw whiskey, meanwhile babbling at the
barkeeper and trying to induce him to indulge in potations. "Come on.
Have a drink. Come on. What--no? Well, have a little one, then. By
gawd, I've whipped a man to-night, and I want to celebrate. I whipped
him good, too. Gentlemen," the Swede cried to the men at the table,
"have a drink?"

"Ssh!" said the barkeeper.

The group at the table, although furtively attentive, had been
pretending to be deep in talk, but now a man lifted his eyes towards
the Swede and said, shortly, "Thanks. We don't want any more."

At this reply the Swede ruffled out his chest like a rooster. "Well,"
he exploded, "it seems I can't get anybody to drink with me in this
town. Seems so, don't it? Well!"

"Ssh!" said the barkeeper.

"Say," snarled the Swede, "don't you try to shut me up. I won't have
it. I'm a gentleman, and I want people to drink with