her dangerous?" said Pee-wee Norris, with
his ears horribly strained.

"What of it?"

"Suppose he goes to the Doctor?"

"We'll have to take the risk."

"I say, though, let's be quick about it."

An uncongenial chill began to pervade the room. Fatty Harris, as
master cook, visibly hastened the operations.

The Tennessee Shad was now heard to say in a mumbled jumble:

"Hurrah for crime! Never say die, boys--dead game sports--give us a
drink, bartender!"

The revelers stood at the bed looking wrathfully down at the cynic,
who snored heavily and said drowsily:

"Talks in his sleep, he talks in his sleep, poor old Pol!"

"Don't pay any attention to him," said Stover angrily. "He's a cheap
wit. What are you doing at the door, Pee-wee?"

"I'm listening," said Norris, turning guiltily.

"You're afraid!"

"I'm not; only let's hurry it up."

Fatty Harris, watching the swirling yellow depths of the rabbit with
evident anxiety, emptied a third of the beer into it and held out the
bottle, saying:

"Here, sports, fill up the glasses with the good old liquor."

When the three glasses and two toothmugs had received their exact
portion of the bitter stuff, which had been allowed to foam copiously
in order to eke out, the five desperadoes solemnly touched glasses and
Slops Barnett, who had visited in Princeton, led them in that
whispered toast that is the acme of devilment:

"_Then stand by your glasses steady,_
_This world is a world full of lies._
_Then here's to the dead already dead,_
_And here's to the next man who dies!"_

It was terrific. Stover, quite moved, looked about the circle, thought
that Pee-wee looked the nearest to the earthworm and repeated
solemnly:

"To the next man who dies."

At this moment the Tennessee Shad was heard derisively intoning:

"_Ring around a rosie,
Pocket full of posie.
Oats, peas, beans and barley grows.
Open the ring and take her in
And kiss her when you get her in!_"

They paid no heed. They felt too acutely the solemnity of life and the
fleeting hour of pleasure to be deterred by even the lathery aspect of
their own faces, which emerged from the suds of the beer ready for the
barber.

"Dish out the bunny," said Slops, putting down his mug with a reckless
look.

Suddenly there came an impressive knock and the voice of Mr. Bundy
saying:

"Open the door, Stover!"

In a thrice the revelry broke up, the telltale bottle and glasses were
sto