“’Twas the congregation that added the ‘foinelly,’ though, before hastily leaving be the back door!” and Costigan slapped his thigh.

“The gentleman in question don’t seem to be makin’ much use of his present conversational opportunities.  I’m feelin’ kinder turned down myself”; and the Texan began to look over his six-shooter.

The man with the squint looked up and down the board.

“Gentlemen, I believe the foregoing expresses the sentiment of this company, which, while it incloodes many foreign and frequent-warring elements, is at present held together by the natchral tie of eating.”

Thumping with knife and fork handles, stamping of feet, cries of “Hear! hear!” with at least three cow-boy yells, argued well for a resumption of last night’s festivities.  Simpson glowered, but said nothing.

“Seems to me you-all goin’ the wrong way ‘bout drawin’ Mistu’ Simpson out.  He is shy an’ has to be played fo’ like a trout, an’ heah you-all come at him like a cattle stampede.”  The big Texan leaned towards Simpson.  “Now you-all watch my methods.  Mistu’ Simpson, seh, what du think of the prospects of rain?”

There was a general recommendation from Simpson that the entire company go to a locality below the rain-belt.

A boy, plainly “from the East,” and looking as if the ink on his graduating thesis had scarce had time to dry, was on his feet, swaggering; he would not have swapped his newly acquired camaraderie with these bronzed Westerners for the Presidency.

“Gentlemen, you have all heard Simpson say it is lonesome having no one to talk to during meals.  We sympathized with him and offered him a choice of subjects.  He greets our remarks by a conspicuous silence, varied by profanity.  This, gentlemen, reflects on us, and is a matter demanding public satisfaction.  All who feel that their powers as conversationalists have been impugned by the silence of Simpson, please say ‘Ay.’”

“Ay” was howled, sung, and roared in every note of the gamut.

“If me yoong frind here an me roight”—­and Costigan jerked a shoulder towards the boy—­“will be afther closin’ that silf-feeding automatic dictionary av his for a moment, I shud be glad to call the attintion av the coomp’ny to somethin’ in the nature av an ixtinuatin’ circoomsthance in the case av Simpson.”

“Hear! hear!” they shouted.  The broad countenance of Costigan beamed with joy at what he was about to say.  “Gintlemin, the silence av Mr. Simpson is jew in all probabilitee to a certain ivint recalled by many here prisint, an’ more that’s absent, an’ amicablee settled out av coort—­”

Up to this time the unhappy Simpson had shown an almost superhuman endurance.  Now he bristled—­and after looking up and down the board for a sympathetic face, and not finding one, he declared, loudly and generally, “’Tain’t so!”