dime in a jewelry store."

"Been in 'e army, nigger, wha I's been fed," said the grinning brown
man, delightedly. "I sho is picked up, ain't I?"

"And what are you doing here in Cairo?"

"Tryin' to bridle a lil white mule." Mr. Pack winked a whisky-brightened
eye jovially and touched his coat to indicate that some of the "white
mule" was in his pocket and had not been drunk.

"How'd you get here?"

"Wucked my way down on de St. Louis packet an' got paid off at Padjo
[Paducah, Kentucky]; 'n 'en I thought I'd come on down heah an' roll
some bones. Been hittin' 'em two days now, an' I sho come putty nigh
bein' cleaned; but I put up lil Joe heah, an' won 'em all back, 'n 'en
some." He touched the medal on his coat, winked again, slapped Siner on
the leg, and burst into loud laughter.

Peter was momentarily shocked. He made a place on the seat for his
friend to sit. "You don't mean you put up your medal on a crap game,
Tump?"

"Sho do, black man." Pack became soberer. "Dat's one o' de great
benefits o' bein' dec'rated. Dey ain't a son uv a gun on de river whut
kin win lil Joe; dey all tried it."

A moment's reflection told Peter how simple and natural it was for Pack
to prize his military medal as a good-luck piece to be used as a last