When he challenged Mr. Titherton to a game of draw-poker, however, something like consternation was immediately manifest among the other occupants of the barroom. One evidence of the simplicity of life in Brownsville was that Sam had never found it necessary to adopt a name for his saloon. It did not have to be distinguished from the other barrooms, because there were no others. In consequence, the main part of the male population of Brownsville sat in Sam’s place evenings, and when the leading citizen of the place, being not too completely in command of all his faculties, proposed to play poker with a stranger who was known to have suspicious ability as a player, to say the least, it was realized that a common peril impended; for Long Mike was not only the chief capitalist and the sole employer of labour in the place, but he was also known to be entirely reckless when he was well started, and capable of playing away his entire earthly possessions. Mr. Titherton, therefore, stood to win practically all the money in Brownsville unless something was done promptly. It was true that Long Mike was lucky. It was one of the traditions of Brownsville, and the story had travelled both up and down the river, that nobody could win money from Long Mike in a square game, provided that gentleman kept sober enough to count his chips. But Brownsville realized that luck alone was not likely to avail much to the man who played single-handed with Mr. Titherton. The obvious expedient, therefore, was to increase the number of players in the game. It seemed certain that if Titherton and Long Mike played a two-handed game, disaster would befall, but if several others should sit in, there would at least be the chance of frustrating any schemes of iniquitous play that might be instituted, and there would be the further possibility of breaking the game up by force of arms in case the disaster should become imminent. It was usually Stumpy who spoke first, and this occasion proved to be no exception. Knowing the uncertain temper of his boss, he realized the necessity for diplomacy, and therefore spoke as one who might address the entire atmosphere: “Av it wasn’t for me bein’ th’ cr-rack player in Brownsville, maybe it’s me ’ud be as’t for to take a hand, I don’t know. Sure, it’d be loike takin’ a bottle o’ milk from a babby. It’d be a sin f’r me to play.” Long Mike looked at him uncertainly for a time. Then he laughed contemptuously. “Since when did ye l’arn the game, Stumpy?” he said. “Sure, it was last week I bluffed ye out on a pair o’ deuces.” “There’s ne’er a man this side o’ Memphis,” replied Stumpy, steadily, “can bate me at th’ game, barrin’ it’s Gallagher, yander, an’ maybe Ferguson, av he have the luck.”