"Fired out for
drinking."
The youth nods. "He is around Montgomery Street. You 'most always
will catch him around the 'old corner' saloon."
Joseph Woods is familiar with that resort of bibulous lawyers. He
wanders out aimlessly.
While Barney McFadden, the barkeeper, surveys Colonel Joseph
swallowing his extra cocktail, he admires himself in the mirror.
He dusts off his diamond pin with a silk handkerchief.
"Jaggers! Oh, yes; know him well. In back room playing pedro. Want
him?"
Woods bows. The laconic Ganymede drags Jaggers away from his ten-cent
game.
Impelled by a telegraphic wink, Barney deftly duplicates the favorite
tipple of the Californian. The Golden State has been sustained in
its growth, by myriads of cocktails. It is the State coat of arms.
"Want to see me? Certainly, Colonel." Jaggers is aroused.
In a private room, Jaggers wails over his discharge. His pocket
is his only fear. Otherwise, he is in Heaven. His life now, is all
"Cocktails and poker!" "Poker and cocktails!" It leaves him little
time for business. Woods knows his man--a useful tool.
"Look here, Jaggers; I know your time is valuable." Jaggers bows
gravely; he smells a new twenty-dollar piece; it will extend his
"cocktail account.
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