The bartender stood up and shouted aloud. "Safe--hah! Say, but ain't it
like looking at something in a moving picture though?" He stuck a hand
into his coat pocket and pulled out Jan's revolver. He stared at it;
then, with a low whistle and a glance at Goles's back, he returned it to
his pocket. Only the Finn woman had seen the action.
The bartender shoved a hand into his trousers pocket. He pulled out a
handful of bills and silver. "Well, what do you know? And I came near
putting that into the safe last night!" He unbuttoned his coat and from
his vest pocket he pulled out a cigar. "Well, what do you know?" He next
drew out a metallic match-case. "Well, well--dry too!" He lit his cigar,
took three or four puffs, contentedly sat down, and began smoothing out
and counting the damp bills. "Well, well!--forty-five, fifty-five,
sixty, seventy--the only time in my life I ever beat a cash register!
Seventy-two--four--and on a good night there'd a been three times the
business--eight-four--six--eight. Eighty-eight dollars."
Goles looked over his shoulder at the bartender. He wet his lips and
stood up. After a time he threw off his overcoat. "How about a drink
from that flask?" he asked suddenly.
Jan, without looking around, drew the flask from his pocket and handed
it to him. He had already given the two men a drink each--and the Finn
woman and Mrs.
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