At length he leaned over the bar and shook a huge forefinger in Sam’s face. “You’re a fool,” he said, and glared. Sam made no reply, but Stumpy, judging that something must be done, interposed: “Ye’ll all have a drink with me,” he said. Ordinarily this form of speech was unchallenged by any critic in Brownsville, and Long Mike was possibly the one citizen least likely to offer any objection, but on this occasion he turned to the speaker, and, shaking his forefinger at him, exclaimed again: “You’re a fool.” Stumpy stepped back a little. Long Mike faced the crowd and said with additional emphasis: “You’re all fools.” Then he broke out with a roar of fury. “Will ye tell me where is that man Gallagher?” but no man dared make answer. “In just about a minute, now,” said Joe Thorp in an undertone to his nearest neighbour, “there’ll be a ten-acre fight in this here barroom if nothin’ ain’t done to get the old man’s mind off’n Gallagher.” “I reckon you’re about right,” replied Jim Hunnewell, “but there ain’t nobody here as cares about fightin’ ’cept him. An’ when he’s loaded, he’d a heap rather fight than do anything else, ’thouten it’s play poker.” “That’s the idee,” exclaimed Thorp, struck with an inspiration. Then, raising his voice, he continued: “Who’ll play a game of poker? Speak up, quick, you chump,” he whispered, and Hunnewell spoke. “I will,” he said, eagerly. “And I,” “And I,” “And I,” said Baxter and Wilson and Cosgrove almost as quickly. They had caught the whispered words, and appreciated the emergency. “Give us the chips, Sam,” called Thorp, bustling toward the card-table in the rear of the room. “Will you take a hand, Mike?” he added, carelessly, as the others followed him with more noise than seemed necessary. Long Mike considered the matter for a moment, but, finding that he no longer held public attention, he wavered and then said: “I will.” “It’s like picking his pockets,” said Cosgrove, with some compunction, as they all took their seats. Even in Brownsville the code prohibits playing with a man who is hopelessly drunk if he happens to be your neighbour and friend. “Isn’t it better than to have him kill somebody before he sobers up?” said Thorp, and the argument was sufficient for all of them. But the picking of Long Mike’s pockets did not proceed with any alarming speed. They played the usual game, table stakes, and each man took five dollars in chips at the start. The first pot was a jack. Cosgrove dealt. Thorp passed. Baxter passed. Wilson opened it for a dollar and a half. Hunnewell threw down. Long Mike raised it two dollars. Cosgrove stayed. Thorp stayed and Wilson stayed. When they came to draw cards, Thorp took one, Wilson took two, and Long Mike was found to be fast asleep. They roused him with some difficulty, and after scanning his cards with every appearance of dissatisfaction, he called for four. Cosgrove took three.