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 whisky, 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 toward
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.
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