"Stop at Kildare on the way up?" and the stranger looked about guardedly.
"Certainly, my friend, I always 'make' Kildare," replied Ardmore, using a phrase he had acquired at breakfast.
"Train runs through the' pretty late at night?"
"Beastly. But I hardly ever sleep, anyhow. A man in my splendid health doesn't need sleep. It's a rotten waste of time."
Silence for several minutes; then the stranger leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, and said in a low tone:
"I got a telegram hyeh says y'u got a jug thet y'u ain't no right t' last night at Kildare. I want thet jug, young fella."
"Now that's very unfortunate. Ordinarily I should be delighted, but I really couldn't give away my Kildare jug. Now if it was one of my other jugs—even my Omaha jug, or my dear old Louisville jug—I shouldn't hesitate a minute, but that old Kildare jug! My dear man, you don't know what you ask!"
"Y'll give me thet jug or it'll be the worse for y'u. Y'u ain't in thet game, young fella."
"Not in it! You don't know whom you are addressing. I'm not only in the game, but I'm in to the finish," declared Ardmore, sitting upright in his chair. "You've got the wrong idea, my friend, if you think you can intimidate me. That jug was given me by a friend, a very old and dear friend—"