It was near daybreak when Ward at last called for the bill. It was two hundred and thirty-seven dollars.
“What”’ exclaimed Artemus.
“That’s my joke.” said Goodman.
“But I was only exclaiming because it was not twice as much,” returned Ward.
He paid it amid laughter, and they went out into the early morning air. It was fresh and fine outside, not yet light enough to see clearly. Artemus threw his face up to the sky and said:
“I feel glorious. I feel like walking on the roofs.”
Virginia was built on the steep hillside, and the eaves of some of the houses almost touched the ground behind them.
“There is your chance, Artemus,” Goodman said, pointing to a row of these houses all about of a height.
Artemus grabbed Mark Twain, and they stepped out upon the long string of roofs and walked their full length, arm in arm. Presently the others noticed a lonely policeman cocking his revolver and getting ready to aim in their direction. Goodman called to him:
“Wait a minute. What are you going to do?”