“Sure, Oi do be think (hic) thinkin’ the citizens o’ this (hic) this town is domned hard oop fer popu (hic) population. Does yez git ivery (hic) iverybody ashore, loike (hic) iverybody (hic) does yez--” Here his voice trailed off to a murmur, and it seemed probable to the tall, powerful man who stood over him that he was likely to go to sleep where he lay if something were not done promptly. Promptness, however, was a prominent characteristic of Mr. Joseph Bassett, the sheriff of the county, and the stranger speedily arose, a wetter and a soberer man--likewise an angrier. With these various considerations Joe Bassett was no whit concerned excepting that the fact of the stranger having been aroused made his own duty somewhat easier of performance. As the short man began sputtering in a peculiarly red-headed fashion, Joe calmly interrupted him. “It’s ag’in the law, stranger, f’r any galoot f’m off’n a boat fer to go an’ git hisself killed on the levee in Arkansas City by a packin’-case or any other murderous weepin in the hands o’ roustabouts or anybody else. ’Pears to me you must be a stranger in these parts. Ever been into a town of any size afore?” The short man continued to sputter as if nothing had been said, so Joe looked at him with mild curiosity for a moment, and then said: “Hyer now. That’ll be about enough. I’d ought for to arrest you for disturbin’ the peace o’ them roustabouts, but if you’ve got money enough to settle a hotel bill, I reckon I might better take you there. Have ye?” “Oi have,” said the little man. “What’s your name?” asked the sheriff, presuming on his official position to disregard a point of strict etiquette in the community. “Mostly they do be callin’ me Stumpy, whin Oi’m at home in Brownsville,” said the little man, whose wrath seemed to have cooled as the water dripped off his face. “Av thot’s a good enough name for Brownsville, sure it’ll do here.” “Come along then, Stumpy,” said the sheriff, good-naturedly, as he linked his arm in the little man’s and steadied his steps toward the hotel across the street. The landlord had no scruples against dispensing red liquor to any man who was in the company of the sheriff, and it came about that the three had sundry drinks which Stumpy paid for with great cheerfulness before going to bed. Soon after he had done this, Mr. Bassett dropped in at old man Greenhut’s saloon, and after some irrelevant remarks reported the presence of a stranger in town. “What’s he like?” demanded Greenhut. “Well, he’s red-headed an’ I reckon he’s Irish, but ’pears like he had some money. He didn’t flash no wad, but he ain’t no ways mean with his loose change.” “You can’t al’ays tell,” said old man Greenhut. “The Good Book says, ‘Him that hath, keeps, an’ f’m him that hath not, the loose change ofttimes leaks.’ Still, it’s worth lookin’ into. Some o’ you boys had better be up to the hotel when he gets round. Maybe he might have a likin’ f’r draw-poker.”