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n how many more rounds the three strangers could survive。
After the sixth set of boilers had been made and unmade； Callahan tried to call a halt。 〃Sorry； gents。 If you want to mit suicide； you'll have to find another joint。〃
The two flankers nodded； but the ugly man reached into his sports coat pocket again； produced a chopstick； and balanced it on his index finger。 〃Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers；〃 he said clearly and distinctly。 〃British constitution。 The Leith police dismisseth us。 Sister Suzie's sewing shirts for soldiers。。。〃
He kept it up until Callahan； exchanging looks with Doc Webster； put another shot in front of him。 The guy shut up and gulped the sauce； sent a glass of beer after it； and waited expectantly。
Callahan sighed and opened a fresh bottle； and I could tell from the label that it was the colored water Tom Hauptman drinks when he's working （explaining to anyone who'll listen that 〃The wages of gin are breath〃）。 I guess the big barkeep figured this mug was too far gone to notice the difference。
But as he reached out to pour； the unlovely customer put his hand over his glass。 〃Wait a bit；〃 he said faintly； his voice suddenly wavering。 〃I。。。 I don't know。 Maybe I。。。 oh Lord； I don't feel too good。 I think I'm gonna be。。。〃 He clutched his middle and leaned over the bar； and a ghastly mess splattered on the counter…top。
A great disgusted groan went up； and those of the boys with weak stomachs began to make their way toward the door。
But the real stampede began when the hapless stranger's two panions； grinning wildly； produced a pair of spoons and dug in。
I would have bet my store teeth that nothing short of an earthquake could empty Callahan's Place on a Friday night； but that about did it。 Folks fled in all directions； out the front door； the back door； even the windows； horror on every face； hideous gargling cries fading into the night。
When the smoke had cleared and the motion ceased； Callahan； the Doc and I were the only survivors； and even the indomitable Callahan looked green about the gills。 Tom was out cold on the floor behind the bar。
And that damned practical joker and his two cronies turned around； looked at the empty saloon； and began laughing hard enough to bust a gut； slapping their thighs and punching each other on the shoulder。
〃What the hell。。。〃 I began； and the ugly man； looking fully recovered now； turned to face me； still laughing fit to kill。 He pulled open his sports coat； disclosing a hot water bottle pinned over the inside pocket。 〃Beef stew；〃 he gasped； and his pals began laughing even harder。
Callahan went from pale green to bright red； and his hand went under the bar； emerging with a softball bat。
〃No； Mike！〃 I cried； 〃Don't！ I know how you feel； but there's just a wild chance that some jury somewhere in the world might convict you。〃
Muscles bulged in his jaw； but he got a grip on himself and lowered the bat。 The three waterheads kept on chortling； oblivious。
〃All RIGHT； goddammit；〃 Callahan bellowed。 〃You've had yer fun。 Now get the rest o' this crap off my bar and get outa here before I murder yez。〃 I was startled to notice that Doc was grinning broadly。 It didn't figure to be his kind of humor。
The three wits； sensing danger at last； nodded and began spooning up the remains of the stew。 In no time the bar…top was reasonably clean。 The ugly joker offered Callahan a ten … spot for his trouble； and nearly had it for dessert。 Still smiling idiotically；。 they headed for the door and disappeared into the night。
Callahan caught sight of the Doc's grin and glared at him； still furious。 〃What the hell are you laughin' at？〃 he growled； and the Doc's grin got even wider。
〃I saw that gag pulled once before； Mike；〃 he said； 〃and I recognized it right off。〃
〃So that makes it funny？〃
〃Hell； no。〃
〃Well then？〃
〃That guy's stomach must be pretty good to handle all that booze；〃 the Doc said happily； 〃but I wonder how he and his buddies are gonna like the seasoning I put in the stew while their backs were turned。〃
The Doc opened his pudgy fist； and there was a little bottle in it； labeled； 〃serum of ipecac。〃
Callahan's eyes widened； and then he smiled。
7
〃A VOICE IS HEARD IN RAMAH。。。〃
How should I know？
It was a bination of things； I guess； and no one special reason。 For one thing； the place doesn't look like much from the outside。 Nor is the interior by any stretch of the imagination romantic … more like a cross between a Chinese firedrill and Tim Finnegan's last party； most nights。 But then you can't tell that from the highway either。 Whatever the reason； it just sort of turned out that women didn't e into Callahan's Place。
All right； maybe I'm ducking the issue。 Maybe there was some kind of masculine aura about the place； a psychic emanation of chauvinist…piggery that kept it a male bastion for so long。 Maybe we were extended adolescents； emotionally retarded； projecting a telepathic equivalent of the 〃No Girls Allowed〃 sign on Tubby's clubhouse。 There's surely no doubt that Callahan's is culturally descended from the grand tradition of Irish bars； and they tend to be misogynistic。 Long…Drink McGonnigle's father…in…law； Thirsty O'Toole； assures us that Irishmen go to pubs to get shut of the women。
But I can't really believe there was ever any prejudice intended。 Callahan doesn't insist that his customers be human。 Certainly no effort was ever made to bar women； as happened at McSorley's。 But men didn't e to Callahan's Place to meet women； and that may be why the few that chanced to drop in generally left quickly。
Then one night a woman walked in and stayed； and I was real proud of the way the boys acted。
It was a Punday Night； as it happened； a little late in the evening。 A perfectly good topic … 〃trees〃 … had been worked over for so long that the three surviving contestants； Doc Webster； Tom Flannery； and Long…Drink； were。。。 pardon me。。。 stumped。 Callahan declared all three co…winners and； as custom demanded； refunded their might's tab。 But as it was still a bit early we decided to hold a play…off for Grand Pundit； no holds barred； any topic； and the three champions agreed。
Long…Drink led off； his eyes filled with that terrible gleam that presages a true stinker。 They call him Long…Drink because he is one long drink of water： when he sits he looks like he's standing； and when he stands he looks like three other guys。 He doesn't mass much more than a pickup truck； and he is the only man I know who can talk and drink whiskey at the same time。 He does a lot of both。
〃Gentlemen；〃 he drawled； demonstrating the trick； 〃the story I am about to relate takes place in the distant future。 Interstellar travel is monplace； contacts with alien races are familiar experiences。 One day； however； a planet is discovered out Antares way whose sole inhabitant is an enormous humanoid； three miles high and made of granite。 At first it is mistaken for an immense statue left by some vanished race of giants； for it squats motionless on a yellow plain； exhibiting no outward sign of life。 It has legs； but it never rise