Tales From Gavagan's Bar Read Free Page B

skilled profession," said McClintock. "Ah, my friends, if the effort and training expended on criminal activity were only employed in the service of humanity, we would not-"
     
                  Thott said, rather hastily: "You were going to tell us about the Danes being kindhearted, Captain Ewaldt."
     
                  "That is correct," said the Captain. "I was yust remembering how I am in the city of Boston one St. Patrick's Day, walking down the dock and minding my own business. Along comes this big Irishman, and anybody can see he has too much to drink, and because I do not have green on for the day, he pushes me.              
     
                  Once is all right, but the second time, I got my little Danish up, and I pushed him in the water—with my fist. But I was really very good to him, because if I have not done this, he would be falling in the water to drown after dark when there is nobody to rescue him."
     
                  Mr. Cohan gave an inarticulate sound, but it was McClintock who said: "What makes you so certain?"
     
                  "More schnapps, please. Because this is early in the morning, and he would be drinking more all day, and everyone knows that an Irishman cannot drink all day without falling down."
     
                  Patrolman Cohan gave an inarticulate sound; Mr. Cohan put both hands on the bar, and said: "And would you be saying, now, that youse Swedes can hold your liquor better than the Irish that's brought up on it? Go on with you."
     
                  "I am not Swedish," said Ewaldt, "yust a good Danish man. And I am saying that I am brought up on the island of Bornholm, and I can drink three times as much as any Irishman."
     
                  "Would you care to bet five dollars on that, now?" said Mr. Cohan, dangerously.
     
                  "It is too little. Five dollars valuta will not even buy the schnapps I am drinking."
     
                  "Think pretty well of yourself, don't you?" said Mr. Cohan. "I can see now that you must be a real artist at drinking." Patrolman Cohan snickered at this brilliant sarcasm as Mr. Cohan went on: "Not but what everyone should have something to be proud of. But if you feel that way about it, maybe you'd be liking to have a little contest for twenty-five dollars, and the loser pays the bills?"
     
                  Wheels appeared to be revolving in Ewaldt's head. "That I will do," he said. "You are drinking with me?"
     
                  "Not me, my fine young felly," said Mr. Cohan. "I have the bar and all to take care of, and it would be worth the best part of me neck if Gavagan come in and found me trying to drink down one of the trade. But Dippie Louie here, he has more than a drop of the right blood in him, and I call to mind many's the time I've seen him lay away his share."
     
                  "It was the cause of my ruin and my descent into crime," said McClintock. "But I undeniably possess a special ability to absorb the drink. It's because my ancestors come from Galway, it is, where the wind blows so cold that if a man drinks water and then goes out of doors, he's no better than an icicle in no time at all."
     
                  "I am not wanting to ruin you again," said Ewaldt.
     
                  Patrolman Cohan spoke up: "You'll not be ruining Louie McClintock, that drank down the Bohemian champion at the truck drivers' picnic. And besides, I'm here meself to see that he gets home all right."
     
                  McClintock gravely extended his hand and took Ewaldt's. "For the honor of old Erin." he said. "Twenty-five dollars and the loser pays the bills. What shall we drink?"
     
                  "Schnapps some kind. It is no matter to me."
     
                  Mr. Cohan set a bottle of Irish whiskey on the bar,