"Don't it smell funny?" whispered Monkey, swirling the bucket gently under the horse's muzzle.
Joses patted the drinking horse.
"There's the beauty," he said. "Suck it down. It'll give you pleasant dreams."
Four-Pound-the-Second had his fill by now and moved away.
Joses picked up his twitch and made for the door.
Monkey placed himself between the fat man and the exit, heavy-lidded, stertorous, and menacing.
"One thing," he said.
"What's that?"
"Them little bits o' paper there was some talk about."
"Oh, aye, I was forgettin' them."