I took an instant for reflection. I knew that he was hoping I might throw myself on his mercy, or else that I would speak and fail; but I determined to do neither. "On second thoughts, I may be able to give some kind of a pow-wow," I replied.
Colonel Corkran's face fell. "That's all right, then!" he exclaimed, getting to his feet. "Well, I must be off. Will you have a cocktail?"
"No, thanks," said I. "I think I can get on without it."
He was at the door. "Kind of hash of gods and goddesses with a peppering of kings and queens, and mixed sauce of history and legend, is what's needed," were his farewell words. Then he shut the door; and I tore my watch from the pocket of my waistcoat. I had twenty-eight minutes in which to prepare the said hash with its seasoning and sauce; and the bugle was inviting my judges to dress for the inquisition.
CHAPTER VIII
FOXY DUFFING
"I'll show you your place," Corkran volunteered, lying in wait for me inside the saloon door, with a cocktail in his hand. "Sorry you wouldn't have one. You'll need it. But no time to change your mind. I've put you at the head of the table that would be the captain's, if he ate with us, which he doesn't—happy man! Place of honour. 'Twas mine, 'tis yours. But I can't go on with the quotation unless I turn it into 'You're slave to thousands.' Sixty odd can be as formidable as thousands."
"Are there sixty odd?" I asked.
"Yes, very 'odd.' The Egypt lot will be about twenty-five. But the whole gang's yours for the present. I give them to you, with the seat of honour."