The bar-keeper was not to be pacified by such a story, and in a
threatening voice, he asked:

"Are you a man-hunter or not?"

The tramp threw a pitying glance of scorn at the pugilistic whisky-
seller, as he replied:

"Be gorra, ye damned fool, do you think that I'd be after givin' myself
away like this if I WAS one?"

"In course ye wouldn't," broke in Barney. "Don't be a fool, Jerry, this
man is no detective," and Barney fastened the star to the vest which
encircled the portly form of the bar-keeper.

"Now ye're one yerself, an' will be after runnin' us all in fer not
detectin' enough of the elegant liquor ye handle."

To this the man could make no reply, save a deep, hoarse laugh, and
resuming his professional position, was shortly engaged in alleviating
the thirst of his patrons.

This little episode had just occurred, when the door of the inner room
was thrown violently open and a man, his coat off, rushed up to the bar.

"Here, Jerry, break this fifty for me," at the same time throwing down a
fifty-dollar bill, crisp and fresh.

"Your playin' in bad luck to-day, Cook?"