For an instant McTeague was stupefied, his eyes bulging.  Then an enormous laugh shook him.  He roared and shouted, swaying in his chair, slapping his knee.  What a josher was this Marcus!  Sure, you never could tell what he would do next.  Marcus slipped the ball out, wiped it on the tablecloth, and passed it to McTeague.

“Now let’s see you do it.”

McTeague fell suddenly grave.  The matter was serious.  He parted his thick mustaches and opened his enormous jaws like an anaconda.  The ball disappeared inside his mouth.  Marcus applauded vociferously, shouting, “Good work!” McTeague reached for the money and put it in his vest pocket, nodding his head with a knowing air.

Then suddenly his face grew purple, his jaws moved convulsively, he pawed at his cheeks with both hands.  The billiard ball had slipped into his mouth easily enough; now, however, he could not get it out again.

It was terrible.  The dentist rose to his feet, stumbling about among the dogs, his face working, his eyes starting.  Try as he would, he could not stretch his jaws wide enough to slip the ball out.  Marcus lost his wits, swearing at the top of his voice.  McTeague sweated with terror; inarticulate sounds came from his crammed mouth; he waved his arms wildly; all the four dogs caught the excitement and began to bark.  A waiter rushed in, the two billiard players returned, a little crowd formed.  There was a veritable scene.

All at once the ball slipped out of McTeague’s jaws as easily as it had gone in.  What a relief!  He dropped into a chair, wiping his forehead, gasping for breath.

On the strength of the occasion Marcus Schouler invited the entire group to drink with him.

By the time the affair was over and the group dispersed it was after five.  Marcus and McTeague decided they would ride home on the cars.  But they soon found this impossible.  The dogs would not follow.  Only Alexander, Marcus’s new setter, kept his place at the rear of the car.  The other three lost their senses immediately, running wildly about the streets with their heads in the air, or suddenly starting off at a furious gallop directly away from the car.  Marcus whistled and shouted and lathered with rage in vain.  The two friends were obliged to walk.  When they finally reached Polk Street, Marcus shut up the three dogs in the hospital.  Alexander he brought back to the flat with him.

There was a minute back yard in the rear, where Marcus had made a kennel for Alexander out of an old water barrel.  Before he thought of his own supper Marcus put Alexander to bed and fed him a couple of dog biscuits.  McTeague had followed him to the yard to keep him company.  Alexander settled to his supper at once, chewing vigorously at the biscuit, his head on one side.

“What you going to do about this—­about that—­about—­about my cousin now, Mac?” inquired Marcus.