Then O'Halloran drank
to the health of Jack and the doctor. Then I drank to the health of
McGinty. Then Jack and the doctor drank to the health of O'Halloran,
and McGinty pledged me.

Two hours passed, and found each of us sitting there in the same
position. Jack and the doctor made a doleful attempt at a game of
euchre, but soon gave it up. McGinty sat refreshing himself with his
flask, defying the weather, laughing, joking, and singing. Then we all
smoked. From time to time the seconds would make fresh efforts to shake
our resolve. They proposed once more that we should toss up for it, or
drive home now, and come out again--in fact, any thing rather than sit
here amid this cold, and drizzle, and wet, and dismal gloom, and
miserable, rheumatic atmosphere. But all these proposals were declined,
and O'Halloran was immovable in his purpose; while I, on the other
hand, was equally resolved that I would not fire first.

Thus time passed, and neither of us would yield. At length, the doctor
settled himself down into the bottom of the sleigh, and drew the
buffalo-robes over him. After a final expostulation, accompanied with a
threat to drive off, Jack imitated his example. McGinty, seeing this,
proceeded to make himself comfortable in the same way. The poor horses
had the worst time of it. The cold snow was up to their knees; and, as
they stood there, they moved uneasily, tramping it down, till a pool of
icy water lay beneath, in which they had to stand. I mentioned this to
O'Halloran; but he only turned it against me, and made use of it as a
fresh argument to shake my decision.

At last I saw that O'Halloran's face and attitude had undergone a
change. For my part, I was wet to the skin, and chilled to my very
bones; but I was young and strong, and could stand even that. With
O'Halloran, however, it was different. A man of sixty cannot sit with
impunity, inactive, and exposed to a cold, slimy drizzle, such as this
was, without feeling very serious effects, and anticipating worse. This
he soon experienced. I saw his figure crouching down, and an expression
of pain coming over his face. In the midst of his pain he still
maintained his punctilious resolution; but how much did that cost him!
It was his own fault, of course. It was all brought on by his
impracticability, his whimsicality, his eccentricity, and his
punctiliousness. Nevertheless, there was in him that which excited my
deepest commiseration. The wretchedness and