"Government pays the bills, commissary, sanitary, and them that'ssent to God Almighty. I guess so. But it'd give Irish the fidgits.Then the Transport's got a three-master billed for San Francisco, andshe sails to-morrow morning, and we're going on her." He seemedsubdued, and hummed and strummed on his banjo, as if he couldn't gethold of what he wanted to let out. At last he struck up a monotonousthing that had no tune, and sang again: "0ne day," he says,

"0ne day I struck creation, And I says in admiration, 'What's this here combination?' Then I done a heap of sin. I hain't no education, Nor kin.

"There's something I would say, childs, 0f the life I throwed away, childs, It cackles, but don't lay, childs, There's a word that won't come out. The hell I raised I'll pay, childs, Just about.

"Tommy," he says then, "I'm leaving you. You ain't going to have mysheltering wing no more. Write down these here maxims in your memory,supposing I never look at you no more. Any game is good that'll hold up abet. Any sort of life is good so long as it has a good risk in it.The worth of anything depends on how much you've staked on it. Himthat draws most of the potluck in this world is the same that dropsmost in. The man that puts up his last coin as keen as when he put uphis first, he'll sure win in the end. Lastly, Tommy, if you want abacker inquire for Sadler. So long."

He got up to leave, and stood a moment looking away into themoonlight. I says: