Several members of the group looked at each other and exchanged significant winks as the narrator began his tale.
"They made him sergeant of a company, but had to reduce him to the ranks, because when he was drilling the boys one day they all marched into the river and got drowned before he could say h-h-halt."
The doctor laughed and the others joined him out of courtesy, for the story was worn threadbare in the bar-room.
"Tell about his going on picket duty," suggested some one.
"Captain ordered him out on the line," said the first speaker, "and he refused. 'T-t-tain't no use,' says he.
"'Why not?' says the captain.
"'C-c-cause,' says he, 'if some d-d-dirty Mexican g-g-greaser should c-c-come along, he'd run me through the g-g-gizzard before I could ask him for the c-c-countersign.'"
More tipsy laughter followed.
"Tell you what it is, b-b-boys," said the quack, growing communicative under the influence of the liquor and the fellowship, "if it wasn't for this b-b-blankety-blanketed impediment in my s-s-speech, I wouldn't need to work more'n about another y-y-year!"
"How's that?" asked someone in the crowd.