a bright red rose above his beard and spread over his forehead.
"Like t'make you acquainted with 'Sour-Dough Sam'." Again the landlord waved his jeweled hand.
In response, a red-haired man sprang like a shot from his chair and executed a bow in imitation of Mr. Poth's.
"Much obliged to meet you," he said heartily; then, turning upon Mr. Poth he demanded fiercely:
"What you introducin' me as 'Sour-Dough Sam' for? Maybe you think I ain't got no reg'lar name?"
The landlord returned calmly:
"Never heerd of none."
"McCaffrey's my name—McCaffrey—and don't you forget it!"
Mr. McCaffrey sat down hard, breathing heavily, and jerked at his plate, which had stuck to the red tablecloth. He used considerable energy, thereby making a kind of tent of the tablecloth which upset the pitcher of well-watered condensed milk.
"Serves you right, Mr. Caffrey," said the
