ting:

"Ah, no! at the end of the end! Render me the sausages, you, or less I
break your throat! Aha! I know you. You are going to play me there a
bad farce. My sausages and the pork sandwich, else I go away from this
place!"

He made an exaggerated show of replacing his big horn in its case, but
the by-standers raised a great protest. The sandwiches and one sausage
were produced; the other had disappeared. In the end Skeezichs allowed
himself to be appeased. The dance was resumed.

Half an hour later the gathering in the harness room was considerably
reinforced. It was the corner of the barn toward which the male guests
naturally gravitated. Harran Derrick, who only cared to dance with Hilma
Tree, was admitted. Garnett from the Ruby rancho and Gethings from
the San Pablo, came in a little afterwards. A fourth bowl of punch was
mixed, Annixter and Caraher clamouring into each other's face as to its
ingredients. Cigars were lighted. Soon the air of the room became blue
with an acrid haze of smoke. It was very warm. Ranged in their chairs
around the side of the room, the guests emptied glass after glass.

Vanamee alone refused to drink. He sat a little to one side,
disassociating himself from what was going forward, watching the others
calmly, a little contemptuously, a cigarette in his fingers.

Hooven, after drinking his third glass, however, was afflicted with a
great sadness; his breast heaved with immense sighs. He asserted that he
was "obbressed;" Cutter had taken his steer. He retired to a corner and
seated himself in a heap on his chair, his heels on the rungs, wiping
the tears from his eyes, refusing to be comforted. Old Broderson
startled Annixter, who sat next to him, out of all measure by suddenly
winking at him with infinite craftiness.

"When I was a lad in Ukiah," he whispered hoarsely, "I was a devil of a
fellow with the girls; but Lordy!" he nudged him slyly, "I wouldn't have
it known!"

Of those who were drinking, Annixter alone retained all his wits. Though
keeping pace with the others, glass for glass, the punch left him solid
upon his feet, clear-headed. The tough, cross-grained fibre of him
seemed proof against alcohol. Never in his life had he been drunk. He
prided himself upon his power of resistance. It was his nature.

"Say!" exclaimed old Broderson, gravely addressing the company, pulling
at his beard uneasily--"say! I--I--listen! I'm a devil of a fellow with
the girls." He wagged his h