dignity, nor won by the charming smile of Miss Corson's well-favored
squire, nor daunted by the inquiring scowl of a pompous man whose
mutton-chop whiskers mingled with the beaver fur about his neck; a
stranger who was patently prosperous and metropolitan.

Furthermore, Mac Tavish, undaunted, promptly dared to exchange growls with
"Old Dog Tray," himself. The latter, none else than His Excellency,
Lawrence North, Governor of the state, marched toward the wicket, wagging
his tail, but the wagging was not a display of amiability. The politicians
called North "Old Dog Tray" because his permanent limp caused his
coattails to sway when he walked.

"Be jing! I've been on the job here at manny a deal of a morn," confided
Officer Rellihan to Calvin Dow, "but here's the first natural straight
flush r'yal, dealt without a draw." He tagged the Corson party with
estimating squints, beginning with the Governor. "Ace, king, queen,
John-jack, and the ten-spot! They've caught the office, this time, with a
two-spot high!"

Mac Tavish played it pat! "And 'tis the mill rule; it lacks twal' meenutes
o' the hour--and the clock yon on the wall is richt!" Thus referring all
responsibility to the clock, the paymaster dipped his pen and went on with
his figures.

The Governor cross-creased the natural deep furrows in his face with
ridges which registered indignant amazement. "You have lost your wits, but
you seem to have your eyes! Use them!"

"It's the mill rule!"