“Yis, an’ a good job. Av he cooms back, I’ll break ivery dommed bone in his body,” exclaimed Long Mike, with sudden fury. “But I’ll have no woman suffer in Brownsville, Stumpy. Av that dirty pirut lift her deshtitoot, as ye say, she’ll be took care of. Mind that.” Taken care of, she had been, in Brownsville fashion. New furniture had replaced the stuff that Long Mike destroyed, and, as the house contained two rooms, or one more than Mrs. Gallagher required to live in, the sporting element of Brownsville had established the custom of using her extra space for a card-room. Whenever a game was in progress, the good lady retired to her own apartment, but after the players had departed she always found that the kitty, established for her benefit, remained on the table. And inasmuch as the income she derived from this source was much larger, and no more irregular, than that which she enjoyed from Gallagher, it had come about that she no longer felt any very keen anxiety for his return. All this was, of course, unknown to Gallagher, as he listened, and his surprise at the unexpected sounds he heard was natural enough. One Harrison had been in Brownsville for two or three days, in company with his side partner, Davis, the two being on one of their occasional business trips down the Mississippi Valley. They had been known to play in some of the principal cities, but for the most part they preferred the smaller places, being of the variety of sports commonly known as crossroads gamblers, and Brownsville was one of their favourite stopping-places. They had at first been inclined to question the use of a private house for their purposes, but after the circumstances were explained, they had acquiesced readily enough, and on this occasion they were sitting in. Long Mike was there. It would have taken more than one Gatling gun to keep him out of a game when one was in progress and he was in the neighbourhood. McCarthy had a hand also, and Billy Flynn. McCarthy was a character. He loved the game of poker with a fervour that would have made him a large winner if he could only have learned how to play the game. As it was, he only sat in at such times as he had sufficient money saved up from his wages to buy a stack. And he never sat long. Flynn was a good player, and Long Mike was better than the average, but neither of them knew enough of the game to detect the peculiarities of play that gave Harrison and Davis a large percentage in their favour. They had been playing for half an hour, and only the remnants of his stack remained to McCarthy, when he caught a king full, pat, on Flynn’s deal. It was a jack-pot, and Harrison, having first say, opened it for the size of it, which was a dollar and a quarter. The game was a small one.