that time, Annie. That's th' way I 'll try first, anyhow, Li'l Girl. Where is this good friend of yourn that steals yore money? Where is this feller?"
As if in answer to his inquiry the heavy-set man strolled in, humming cheerily. And as he did so the sleepy occupant of the barber's chair slowly awoke, rubbed his eyes, stretched luxuriously and, paying his bill, loafed out and lazily sauntered down the street, swearing softly.
"Why, here he is now," laughed the woman. "You must 'a' heard us talkin' about you, Jim. I 'm goin' to get my money back—this is Mr. Porter, Jim, who 's goin' to do it."
The gambler smiled and held out his hand. "Howd'y, Mr. Porter," he said.
Sammy glared at him: "Put yore paw down," he said, thickly. "I ain't shakin' han's with no dogs or tin-horns."
The gambler recoiled and flushed, fighting hard to repress his anger. "What you mean?" he growled, furiously. "What I said. If you want revenge sit down
