shake of his head. "You an' Barney are a pair."

"Barney? Ye mane the Irish lad that was just here a bit ago?"

"The same. He's square. He's one of you."

The tramp leaned forward, his eyes fastened on the bloodshot eyes of the
drink-compounder, and in an earnest tone, asked:

"Is he a bye that could crack a plant with the loikes o' me?"

Impressed with the tone and manner of the tramp, the bar-keeper gazed
quickly around the room, and in a still lower tone, replied:

"He's on a lay himself. Would you like to go his pal?" The tramp slowly
nodded his head, and after receiving the whispered invitation to come
around later, strolled out of the saloon; and so on up the road.

Turning a corner he nearly ran against Barney himself, who was sitting
on a horse-block, enjoying a pipe and the sun.

Not a soul was in sight. Satisfying himself of that fact, Barney gazed
at the tramp and said:

"By Jove, Chip, I thought you were a goner when that confounded star
fell out."

Chip gave a deep sigh of relief, and taking off his hat, pointed to the
perspiration which moistened the band: