But the passenger made no reply. III FINISH OF THE ONE-EYED MAN The one-eyed man sat playing solitaire at a table in the extreme rear of the barroom. This particular room was not the only place in Brownsville where liquor could be had by those bibulously inclined, for whiskey was recognized as one of the staples. There were few of the citizens of the place who allowed themselves to remain destitute of a domestic supply, and there was none so inhospitable as to refuse to share what he had with even a casual passer-by who cared to stop, but the room in which the one-eyed man sat, on this occasion, was known as the barroom. Brownsville was too small a place to encourage competition unduly. There was the usual crowd in the room, it being early in the evening, and a river boat being expected soon. It was not every time a boat arrived that anybody came ashore to stay, but sometimes it happened that somebody would do so, and, even if it didn’t, there was usually some freight to be landed, and while the roustabouts were bringing that off, the boat would have to stay. On such occasions, the barroom, being handy to the landing, became not only the social centre of Brownsville, but also the news exchange where all the available intelligence of the happenings of the outside world was to be obtained. It was not that Brownsville cared specially what the outside happenings might be, or might not be, but there was more or less excitement to be had by conversing with strangers who might stroll ashore for even a few minutes, and Brownsville craved excitement. The usual crowd was unusually noisy this evening. Long Mike, the labour contractor, who had organized a trust in handling of freight, and owned eight mules, representing a goodly proportion of his accumulated capital, had been drinking more than usual ever since the landing of the last boat, and, after his fashion when he drank, his voice was being overworked. Moreover, the small crowd of able-bodied men who were enjoying his hospitality had all of them opinions of their own which they were anxious to express, and so, though Sam, the bartender, was a man of few words, there was no lack of conversation. The one-eyed man did not drink, and as there was an ill-defined popular prejudice against him, partly for that reason, no one paid much attention to him, or to his game of solitaire.