Law boasted a liberal education, but he was no match for the
father of Jonesville, who wielded a cue with a dexterity born of
years of devotion to the game. In consequence, Blaze's enjoyment
was in a fair way to languish when the proprietor of the Elite
Billiard Parlor returned from supper to say:
"Mr. Jones, there's a real good pool-player in town, and he wants
to meet you."
Blaze uttered a triumphant cry. "Get him, quick! Send the brass-
band to bring him. Dave, you hook your spurs over the rung of a
chair and watch your uncle clean this tenderfoot. If he's got
class, I'll make him mayor of the town, for a good pool-shooter is
all this metropolis lacks. Why, sometimes I go plumb to San Antone
for a game." He whispered in his friend's ear, "Paloma don't let
me gamble, but if you've got any dinero, get it down on me." Then,
addressing the bystanders, he proclaimed, "Boys, if this pilgrim
is good enough to stretch me out we'll marry him off and settle
him down."
"No chance, Uncle Blaze; he's the most married person in town,"
some one volunteered. "His wife is the new dressmaker--and she's
got a mustache." For some reason this remark excited general
mirth.
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