"This is what comes of asking God to help a fellow," said he to himself.
"Strange, too, that He should answer my prayer in part before I asked,
by causing that queer jumble of good and evil, Bill Cronk, to suggest
to me this way of turning an honest penny. I wish Bill was as good a
friend to himself as he is to others. I fear that he will go to the
dogs. Bless me! the gnawings of hunger are bad enough, but what must
be those of conscience? I think I can astonish my German friend to-day
as never before;" and, shouldering his shovel, he walked back to dinner,
feeling like a prince bearing aloft the insignia of his power.

When he entered the bar and lunch room, he saw that something was
wrong. The landlord met him, instead of his jolly, satirical friend.

Now the owner of the place was a wizen-faced, dried-up old anatomy,
who seemed utterly exhaling away in tobacco smoke, while his assistant
was becoming spherical under the expansive power of lager. It was his
custom to sit up and smoke most of the night, and therefore he was
down late in the morning. When he appeared his assistant told him of
the bargain he had made with Dennis as a good joke. But old Hans hadn't
any faculty for jokes. Dollars and cents and his big meerschaum made
up the two elements of his life. The thought of losing zwei shillings
or zwei cents by Dennis, or any one else, caused him anguish, and
instead of laughing, his fun-loving assistant was aghast at seeing him
fall into a passion.

"You be von big fule. Vat for we keep mens here who haf no money? You
should gleared him off, instead of making pargains for him to eat us
out of der house."

"We haf his trunk," said Jacob, for that was his name.