“I belave ye,” said Barney, “ye can safely be relied on for judgment in the matter of whisky and pistols. Ah-h-h, be me sowl that’s foine.”
“Give us a song,” cried Cheeky Charley to Pomp. “Give us one of the reg’ler old down South songs.”
“All right,” said Pomp, and after tuning up he launched forth in a melodious voice, with:
“DAT COON HUNT.
“Massa went out for to hunt the coon,
He went for to hunt by de light of the moon,
He find the critter mighty soon;
Ker-flew dar, ker-flew.
“De coon was up in a great big tree,
De highest tree yer eber did see,