"I'm no gambler," replied the kicker.
The chief asked Mead what he had learned, and he said:
"They were playing a square game of poker."
"That settles it," said the chief.
So I walked out and down to where I had left my roll. The good- looking young man handed it over, and since then I have always thought Billy Gruber was an honest man and deserved to own two of the finest saloons in the Queen City.
A COWARD.
While in Chicago playing the bank one day I had some angry words with a fellow by the name of John Lawler, and I slapped him in the face. He did not resent it, but went out. About 2 o'clock in the afternoon I cashed in my checks and started to my room. I was walking down Clark Street, and was near the corner of Madison, when this fellow Lawler stepped out and began firing at me. The first shot would have hit me in the breast if I had not thrown up my arm; as it was, it struck me on the wristbone and ran up my arm near the shoulder. After the coward fired he began running backward, and kept it up until he had fired all six shots. I had nothing but a little cane, but I started after him, and just as he fired the last shot I struck him with my good arm and downed him. I was onto him, and was just getting that old head of mine ready when the police arrested me. There were thousands of people on the street, but you could not see a cop until the last shot was fired. The fellow was sent up for three years, and I signed a petition to get him out. I was mad when he shot me, and I guess I would have killed him if they had not taken me off; but I do not hold malice to any one, not even if he tries to kill me.
I was laid up for some time with my arm. The bullet was cut out, and was as flat as a half-dollar.
I went from Chicago to St. Paul to see my dear old mother and a sister, who were living there at that time.
My arm is as strong as ever; or, at least, some fellows who have felt it since, say so.