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,