“His name was Barney O’Connor,” said Bill.

Thus, because of our ancient prescience of each other’s trail of thought, we travelled ambiguously to the point where Kansas Bill’s story began: 

“I met O’Connor in a boarding-house on the West Side.  He invited me to his hall-room to have a drink, and we became like a dog and a cat that had been raised together.  There he sat, a tall, fine, handsome man, with his feet against one wall and his back against the other, looking over a map.  On the bed and sticking three feet out of it was a beautiful gold sword with tassels on it and rhinestones in the handle.

“‘What’s this?’ says I (for by that time we were well acquainted).  ’The annual parade in vilification of the ex-snakes of Ireland?  And what’s the line of march?  Up Broadway to Forty-second; thence east to McCarty’s cafe; thence—­’

“‘Sit down on the wash-stand,’ says O’Connor, ’and listen.  And cast no perversions on the sword.  ’Twas me father’s in old Munster.  And this map, Bowers, is no diagram of a holiday procession.  If ye look again. ye’ll see that it’s the continent known as South America, comprising fourteen green, blue, red, and yellow countries, all crying out from time to time to be liberated from the yoke of the oppressor.’

“‘I know,’ says I to O’Connor.  ’The idea is a literary one.  The ten-cent magazine stole it from “Ridpath’s History of the World from the Sand-stone Period to the Equator.”  You’ll find it in every one of ’em.  It’s a continued story of a soldier of fortune, generally named O’Keefe, who gets to be dictator while the Spanish-American populace cries “Cospetto!” and other Italian maledictions.  I misdoubt if it’s ever been done.  You’re not thinking of trying that, are you, Barney?’ I asks.

“‘Bowers,’ says he, ‘you’re a man of education and courage.’

“‘How can I deny it?’ says I.  ’Education runs in my family; and I have acquired courage by a hard struggle with life.’

“‘The O’Connors,’ says he, ’are a warlike race.  There is me father’s sword; and here is the map.  A life of inaction is not for me.  The O’Connors were born to rule.  ‘Tis a ruler of men I must be.’

“‘Barney,’ I says to him, ’why don’t you get on the force and settle down to a quiet life of carnage and corruption instead of roaming off to foreign parts?  In what better way can you indulge your desire to subdue and maltreat the oppressed?’

“‘Look again at the map,’ says he, ’at the country I have the point of me knife on.  ’Tis that one I have selected to aid and overthrow with me father’s sword.’

“‘I see,’ says I.  ’It’s the green one; and that does credit to your patriotism, and it’s the smallest one; and that does credit to your judgment.’

“‘Do ye accuse me of cowardice?’ says Barney, turning pink.

“‘No man,’ says I, ’who attacks and confiscates a country single-handed could be called a coward.  The worst you can be charged with is plagiarism or imitation.  If Anthony Hope and Roosevelt let you get away with it, nobody else will have any right to kick.’