Ten Nights in a Bar Room | Page 7

and muscular.
"I presume you heard my words. They were spoken distinctly," he
replied, not moving from where he sat, nor seeming to be in the least
disturbed. But there was a cool defiance in the tones of his voice and in

the steady look of his eyes.
"You're an impertinent fellow, and I'm half tempted to chastise you."
Green had scarcely finished the sentence, ere he was lying full length
upon the floor. The other had sprung upon him like a tiger, and with
one blow from his heavy fist, struck him down as if he had been a child.
For a moment or two, Green lay stunned and bewildered--then, starting
up with a savage cry, that sounded more bestial than human, he drew a
long knife from a concealed sheath, and attempted to stab his assailant,
but the murderous purpose was not accomplished, for the other man,
who had superior strength and coolness, saw the design, and with a
well directed blow almost broke the arm of Green, causing the knife to
leave his hand and glide far across the room.
"I'm half tempted to wring your neck off," exclaimed the man, whose
name was Lyon, now much excited, and seizing Green by the throat, he
strangled him until his face grew black. "Draw a knife on me, ha! You
murdering villain!" And he gripped him tighter.
Judge Lyman and the landlord now interfered, and rescued Green from
the hands of his fully aroused antagonist. For some time they stood
growling at each other, like two parted dogs struggling to get free, in
order to renew the conflict, but gradually cooled off. In a little while
Judge Lyman drew Green aside, and the two men left the bar-room to
other. In the door, as they were retiring, the former slightly nodded to
Willy Hammond, who soon followed them, going into the sitting room,
and from thence, as I could perceive, upstairs to an apartment above.
"Not after much good," I heard Lyon mutter to himself. "If Judge
Hammond don't look a little closer after that boy of his, he'll be sorry
for it, that's all"
"Who is this Green?" I asked of Lyon, finding myself alone with him in
the bar-room soon after.
"A blackleg, I take it," was his unhesitating answer.

"Does Judge Lyman suspect his real character?"
"I don't know anything about that, but I wouldn't be afraid to bet ten
dollars, that if you could look in upon them now, you would find cards
in their hands."
"What a school, and what teachers for the youth who just went with
them!" I could not help remarking.
"Willy Hammond?"
"Yes."
"You may well say that. What can his father be thinking about to leave
him exposed to such influences!"
"He's one of the few who are in raptures about this tavern, because its
erection has slightly increased the value of his property about here, but
if he is not the loser of fifty per cent for every one gained, before ten
years go by, I'm very much in error."
"How so?"
"It will prove, I fear, the open door to ruin to his son."
"That's bad," said I.
"Bad! It is awful to think of. There is not a finer young man in the
country, nor one with better mind and heart, than Willy Hammond. So
much the sadder will be his destruction. Ah, sir! this tavern-keeping is a
curse to any place."
"But I thought, just now, that you spoke in favor of letting even the
poor drunkard's money go into the landlord's till, in order to encourage
his commendable enterprise in opening so good a tavern."
"We all speak with covert irony sometimes," answered the man, "as I
did then. Poor Joe Morgan! He is an old and early friend of Simon
Slade. They were boys together, and worked as millers under the same

roof for many years. In fact, Joe's father owned the mill, and the two
learned their trade with him. When old Morgan died, the mill came into
Joe's hands. It was in rather a worn-out condition, and Joe went in debt
for some pretty thorough repairs and additions of machinery. By and by,
Simon Slade, who was hired by Joe to run the mill, received a couple of
thousand dollars at the death of an aunt. This sum enabled him to buy a
share in the mill, which Morgan was very glad to sell in order to get
clear of his debt. Time passed on, and Joe left his milling interest
almost entirely in the care of Slade, who, it must be said in his favor,
did not neglect the business. But it somehow happened--I will not say
unfairly--that at the end of ten years, Joe Morgan no longer owned a
share in