“Gentlemen,” he began, “your judges feel a delicacy in passing on the merits of such distinguished artists, but in the first number the decision is unanimously in favor of the darky, while the second is clearly in favor of the white contestant.  In regard to the last test, your judges cannot reach any decision, as the selections rendered fail to qualify under the head of”—­

But two shots rang out in rapid succession across the street, and the crowd, including the judges and fiddlers, rushed away to witness the new excitement.  The shooting had occurred in a restaurant, and quite a mob gathered around the door, when the sheriff emerged from the building.

“It’s nothing,” said he; “just a couple of punchers, who had been drinking a little, were eating a snack, and one of them asked for a second dish of prunes, when the waiter got gay and told him that he couldn’t have them,—­’that he was full of prunes now.’  So the lad took a couple of shots at him, just to learn him to be more courteous to strangers.  There was no harm done, as the puncher was too unsteady.”

As the crowd dispersed from the restaurant, I returned to the livery stable, where Straw and several of our outfit were explaining to the old mendicant that he had simply outplayed his opponent, and it was too bad that they were not better posted in sacred music.  Under Straw’s leadership, a purse was being made up amongst them, and the old man’s eyes brightened as he received several crisp bills and a handful of silver.  Straw was urging the old fiddler to post himself in regard to sacred music, and he would get up another match for the next day, when Rod Wheat came up and breathlessly informed Officer and myself that The Rebel wanted us over at the Black Elephant gambling hall.  As we turned to accompany him, we eagerly inquired if there were any trouble.  Wheat informed us there was not, but that Priest was playing in one of the biggest streaks of luck that ever happened.  “Why, the old man is just wallowing in velvet,” said Rod, as we hurried along, “and the dealer has lowered the limit from a hundred to fifty, for old Paul is playing them as high as a cat’s tack.  He isn’t drinking a drop, and is as cool as a cucumber.  I don’t know what he wants with you fellows, but he begged me to hunt you up and send you to him.”

The Black Elephant was about a block from the livery, and as we entered, a large crowd of bystanders were watching the playing around one of the three monte games which were running.  Elbowing our way through the crowd, we reached my bunkie, whom Officer slapped on the back and inquired what he wanted.

“Why, I want you and Quirk to bet a little money for me,” he replied.  “My luck is with me to-day, and when I try to crowd it, this layout gets foxy and pinches the limit down to fifty.  Here, take this money and cover both those other games.  Call out as they fall the layouts, and I’ll pick the card to bet the money on.  And bet her carelessly, boys, for she’s velvet.”