Daylight grew dim, and some one came over and lighted a hanging gasoline lamp that threw into tragic relief the painted hollows under Casey's eyes, which were beginning to look very bloodshot around the blue of them.
Once, while the bartender was bringing drinks--you are not to infer that Casey was drunk; he was merely a bit hazy over details--Casey pulled out his dollar watch and looked at it.

Eight-thirty--the show must be pretty well started, by now.

He thought he might venture to hobble over to Bill's and have those dog-gone straps taken off before he was crippled for sure.
But he did not want to do anything to embarrass the show lady.

Besides, he had lost a great deal of money, and he wanted to win some of it back.

He still had time to make that train, he remembered.