TOM GROGAN
The Scotchman was on his feet in an instant.
“I have listened,” he said, “to the talk that Justice Rowan has given us. It's very fine and tonguey, but it smothers up the facts. You can't rob this woman”—
“Question! question!” came from half a dozen throats.
“What's your pleasure, gentlemen?” asked the president, pounding with his gavel.
“I move,” said the courier member, “that the contract be awarded to Mr. Daniel McGaw as the lowest bidder, provided he can sign the contract to-night with proper bonds.”
Four members seconded it.
“Is Mr. McGaw's bondsman present?” asked the president, rising.
Justice Rowan rose, and bowed with the air of a foreign banker accepting a government loan.
“I have that honor, Mr. Prisident. I am willing to back Mr. McGaw to the extent of me humble possissions, which are ample, I trust, for the purposes of this contract”—looking around with an air of entire confidence.
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