"A good many of the shop signs are in English already," remarked Sam. "That's a good beginning."
"Yes," said Cleary. "But they seem to be almost all saloons, that's queer."
"So they are," said Sam.
"There are some pretty good ones, too," said Foster. "Just stop in here for a moment and take a drink."
They entered a drinking-place and found a bar planned on the familiar lines of home.
"Look at this list of our drinks," said Foster proudly. "Count 'em; there are eighty-two."
Sam examined the list, which was printed and framed and hanging on the wall, and they each took a glass of beer, standing. There were about a dozen men in the place, most of them soldiers.
"Do they do a big business in these places?" asked Sam.
"You'll think so when you see the drunken soldiers in the streets in the evening," answered Foster. "We're planting our institutions here, I tell you."
"Not only saloons," said Sam. "There's the post-office, for instance."