naturally requires for its performance an extraordinarily concave and
well-practised throat, and, with the exception of Bandi, there were not
above one or two others who could successfully accomplish it.

"Why, that's nothing at all!" cried Mike Kis, accomplishing the feat
without the slightest exertion. "But now, let any one try and do what I
can do--sing a song and at the same time drain a bumper without leaving
off singing."

Now, this was an entirely new trick, and an extremely difficult one to
boot; for, to be properly performed, it required not only that the
glottis should remain immovable during the passage of the vinous torrent
down the throat, but also that the throat should give forth at the same
time a clear, uninterrupted voice. Yet Michael Kis performed this feat
with masterly dexterity, to the general astonishment, and gave back the
bowl for the next man to imitate him.

Naturally they all came to grief. Every bumper of wine was a fresh
occasion of shame, and the drinkers laughed heartily at one another, for
every one of them was obliged to interrupt his song while he drank.

Michael Kis had to show them once more how it was done.

"A bumper here!" cried Bandi at last, and gallantly buckled to the
attempt; but the song only proceeded a little way, and then a drop of
wine managed to get into his windpipe, and immediately, like a whale
rising to the surface of the sea to blow, or like a stone triton
spouting forth the water of a fountain, a violent upward rush of
imprisoned breath discharged through every aperture of the suffocating
wretch the wine that filled his throat.

The whole table arose, the company bursting with laughter, while Bandi,
gasping and coughing, shook his fists at Mike during every brief respite
his lungs allowed him, and cried, "I'll kill you I'll kill you!" And at
last, when he began to feel better, he rolled the sleeves of his shirt
up his big bony arms, and yelled hoarsely, "I'll kill you! I'll kill
you! Look out, I say, for I'm going to kill the whole company."

At these words there was a general rush for the door. Every one knew
Kutyfalvi's way of going to work, and it was just as well, at such
times, either to fly before him or to lie down, for he had this in
common with the bear race, that he never hurt any one whom he found
lying on the ground. The heydukes hastily removed Master Jock outside
also. All the rest who had still the slightest command over their legs
crept unde