Mr. Blair seemed in very good humor. Frank seated himself opposite the brute, and called for a drink. He was promptly waited upon.
“Say, young fellow,” remarked Blair, “who told you that you might sit down at this ’ere table?”
“Cully, have you any objections to me sitting here?”
“My name ain’t Cully.”
Bull glowered at Hare.
“You don’t own the table.”
“Young fellow, I don’t allow any one that comes in here to give me lip!”
“Where do you bury your dead?”
“I’m Bull Blair.”
“Glad to make your acquaintance.”