"Well, can't we send to Japan as well as any one? And as to its being a monkey's head on a fish's tail, that's no concern. It would only make a better gull-trap." "And wait some two years before it arrived? Humph! If that's the only thing that will save me, I shall go to the dogs in spite of the--" "Don't swear, Mr. Graves. It's a bad habit, though I am guilty of it myself,"--the bar-tender said, with vulgar familiarity. "But, why need we wait two years for a maremaid?" "Did you ever study geography, Sandy?" "Jografy?" "Yes." "What's that?" "Why, the maps, at school." "I warn't never to school." "Then you don't know how far Japan is from here?" "Not exactly. But 'spose it's some twenty or thirty miles." "Twenty or thirty miles! It's t'other side of the world!" "O, dear! Then we can't get a maremaid, after all. But 'spose we try and get a live snake." "That won't do." "Why not?" "A live snake is no great curiosity." "Yes, but you know we could call it some outlandish name; or say that it was dug up fifty feet below the ground, out of a solid rock, and was now all alive and doin' well." "It wouldn't do, Sandy." "Now I think it would, prime." "It might if these temperance folks were not so confounded thick about here, interfering with a man and preventing him making an honest living. If it wasn't for them, I should be clearing five or ten dollars a day, as easy as nothing." "Confound them! I say," was Sandy's hearty response; while he clenched his fist, and ground his teeth together. "If I had a rope round the necks of every mother's son of 'em, wouldn't I serve 'em as old Julus Cesar did the Hottentots? Wouldn't I though! But what could they say or do about it, Mr. Graves." "They'd pretty quick put it on to us in their temperance papers about the good device we had. They'd talk pretty fast about the serpent that seduced Eve, and all that. No, blast 'em! A snake won't do, Sandy." "How will a monkey do?" "A monkey might answer, if he was a little cuter than common. But we can't get one handy." "Try a band of music." "That would soon wear out; and then we should have to get up something else, and the people would suspect us of trying to gull them." "Then what is to be done, Mr. Graves? We can never stand it at this rate." "I'm sure I don't know." And the rum-seller leaned upon his bar, and looked quite sad and dejected. "I wonder what has become of Bill Riley?" he at length asked, rising up with a sigh. "He hasn't been here for a week." "Dick Hilton told me to-day that he believed he had joined the teetotallers." "I feared as much. He was one of my very best customers; worth a clear dollar and a half a week to me, above the cost of the liquors, the year round. And Tom Jones? Where can he be?" "Gone, too." "Tom Jones?" in surprise. "It's a fact. They got him on the same night Bill Riley was caught."