146
TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
"They'll give him five, I reckon."
"No—not more than two. It will be hard to prove malicious intention."
"I don't know that. I've heard him curse the girl and threaten her many a time. Haven't you?"
"Yes"—"Yes"—"I have, often," ran around the bar-room.
"You'd better hang me at once," said Slade, affecting to laugh.
At this moment, the door behind Slade opened, and I saw his wife's anxious face thrust in for a moment. She said something to her husband, who uttered a low ejaculation of surprise, and went out quickly.
"What's the matter now?" asked one of another.
"I shouldn't wonder if little Mary Morgan was dead," was suggested.
"I heard her say dead," remarked one who was standing near the bar.
"What's the matter, Frank?" inquired sev-
