of "I'll see you an' go you tenner better." "A full house pat, what 'er
ye got," designated the altar at which the worshipers of "draw poker"
were offering sacrifices.

The saloon consisted of one long, low room, on one side of which was
located the conventional bar, with its background of glittering
decanters and dazzling glasses and its "choice assortment of liquors"--
to quote the sign which called attention to these necessary luxuries.

A large stove stood in the center of the room, and a number of small
tables were placed around promiscuously, The bar-tender, a smooth-faced,
beetle-browed rascal, was engaged in shaking dice for the drinks with a
customer, and, to the music of the violin, a light-footed Irishman was
executing his national jig, to the great delight and no small
edification of his enthusiastic audience.

The wide sombreroes, perched back on the head, pointed out the cowboys
who were making up for the lonesome days and nights on the plains.

It was a motley crowd, a fair specimen of the heterogeneous mass of
humanity which floats hither and there all over our western States, and
contained some villainous-looking fellows.

As the tramp entered, the interest in the jig was developing into
enthusiasm. Hands were clapped, and fingers snapped to the time of the
nimble heels and toes of the jaunty Corkonian. The violinist was
settling down to vigorous work, and Pat, having the incentive of
anticipated free drinks as a reward for his efforts, was executing the
most intricate of steps.