During the progress of the ditty—the air of which no description can do justice to—the audience, the members of which had gradually drawn nigh the singer, joined in the refrain with a strength of lung and depth of voice causing the casements to rattle and the air to resound. The enthusiasm evolved was so intense and found such loud vent, that some moments necessarily elapsed before quiet was so far restored as to permit McKenna to make himself understood, after descending once more to the floor, as wanting the friends present to “stand furninst the bar an’ have a noggin of poteen wid him!” The request, when fairly heard, was readily complied with. It was very soon revealed to the acute senses of the operative that he had made an impression which could not well fail in being useful to him in the future. The effect, in the landlord’s case, was not to be misunderstood, and he, Jennings had said, was a “captain among the Sleepers,” or Mollies. The overgrown fellow was zealous in his openly-expressed, newly-awakened regard for the stranger, and after hearing some sentimental and comical songs, seated himself by McKenna’s side and entered upon a course of minute inquiry as to the detective’s nativity, residence, last occupation, business in the mines, etc. Mrs. Dormer, in the meantime, attended to the drinks, and was not long in perceiving that their visitor—the lion of the evening, in fact—had some money with him, and was, sailor-like, dispensing it freely for the gratification of her guests. Dormer, on his part, was soon in possession of the fact that McKenna was from Colorado—but latest from New York—looking for work, after which he proposed a trial at cards in the back sitting-room, honoring the stranger by choosing him as his partner. Kelly and a scowling, heavy-set, large-boned man, named Frazer, were to be pitted against them. It was euchre that they entered upon, the stakes being refreshments for the four. The game progressed peacefully, Dormer and his friend at first gaining some advantages, but the landlord soon losing his little remaining wit, with accession of more whisky, they began to fall off in the winnings. McKenna was quick to see plentiful cause for this ill-success. Frazer, when dealing, passed himself six cards instead of the proper number, and played other tricks generally classed as among cheats and frauds. The operative seized Frazer’s hand and exposed the deceit to the gaze of his companions, denouncing the swindler in no measured terms. The game was broken up; Dormer was raving furiously, and all hands returned to the bar, where many of its former occupants still remained. Once there, Frazer threw off his coat, and challenged his accuser to fight him, saying: “I’ll maul the sod wid any cowardly bog-trotter in sivin counties that says I chate at cards!” [Illustration: _“I’ll bate ye fairly, an’ the coat on me back at that!”_]