The bartender did as he was requested.

"Can you disguise a little of that fluid in any way, so that it may be
taken internally without a man suspecting what he is swallowing?"

The barkeeper smiled. "How would a cocktail fill the vacancy?"

"I can suggest nothing better," replied Yates. "If you are sure you
know how to make it."

The man did not resent this imputation of ignorance. He merely said,
with the air of one who gives an incontrovertible answer:

"I am a Kentucky man myself."

"Shake!" cried Yates briefly, as he reached his hand across the bar.
"How is it you happened to be here?"

"Well, I got in to a little trouble in Louisville, and here I am, where
I can at least look at God's country."

"Hold on," protested Yates. "You're making only _one_ cocktail."

"Didn't you say one?" asked the man, pausing in the compounding.

"Bless you, I never saw one cocktail made in my life. You are with me
on this."

"Just as you say," replied the other, as he prepared enough for two.