Only the shop of Solly Gumble seemed to be open for trade.

This was but seeming, however, for another establishment near by, though sealed and curtained as to front, suffered its rear portal to yawn most hospitably.

This was the place of business of Herman Vielhaber, and its street sign concisely said, "Lager Bier Saloon." Dave Cowan turned into the alley just beyond Solly Gumble's, then up another alley that led back of the closed shops, and so came to the back door of this refectory.

It stood open, and from the cool and shadowy interior came a sourish smell of malt liquors and the hum of voices.
They entered and were in Herman Vielhaber's pleasant back room, with sanded floor and a few round tables, at which sat half a dozen men consuming beer from stone mugs or the pale wine of Herman's country from tall glasses.
Herman was a law-abiding citizen.

Out of deference to a sacred and long-established American custom he sealed the front of his saloon on the Sabbath; out of deference to another American custom, equally long established, equally sacred, he received his Sabbath clientele at the rear--except for a brief morning interval when he and Minna, his wife, attended service at the Lutheran church.