He besought and defied each gentleman present to recall an occasion,
however trivial, when his conduct had fallen short of the loftiest
standards. Especially were they begged to cite an instance when he had
deviated in the least degree from a line of strictest loyalty to any
friend. Big Joe Kestril was overcome at this. He broke down and wept out
upon the shoulder of Potts his hopeless inability to comply with that
outrageous request. The entire crowd became emotional, and a dozen
lighted matches were thrust forward toward an apparently incombustible
cigar with which Potts had long striven.

Recovering from these first ravages of his self-analysis, the Colonel
became just a bit critical.

"But you see, boys, a man of my attributes is hampered and kept down in
a one-horse place like this. Remarks have been passed about me here that
I should blush to repeat. I say it in confidence, but I have again and
again been made the sport of a wayward and wanton ridicule. I say,
gentlemen, I have always conducted myself as only a Potts knows how to
conduct himself--and yet I have been pestered by cheap flings at my
personal bearing. Is this courtesy, is it common fairness, is it the
boasted civilization of our nineteenth century?"

[Illustration: "AND YET I HAVE BEEN PESTERED BY CHEAP FLINGS AT MY
PERSONAL BEARING."]

Hoarse expressions of incredulity, of execration, of disgust, came from
the crowd as it raised glasses once more. The Colonel glared down the
sloppy length of the bar, then gazed aloft into the smoky heights. The
crowd waited for him to say something.