Reluctantly breaking up their hilarious company, they prepare to depart.
They have forsaken the supper-room, and passed on to the outer saloon of the hotel; like all such, furnished with a drinking-bar.
Before separating, and while buttoning up against the chill night-air, Crozier calls out:
“Come, gentlemen; one more glass! The stirrup-cup!”
In San Francisco this is always the wind up to a night of revelry. No matter how much wine has been quaffed, the carousal is not deemed complete without a last “valedictory” drink taken standing at the bar.
Giving way to the Californian custom, the officers range themselves along the marble slab; bending over which, the polite bar-keeper asks:
“What is it to be, gentlemen?”
There is a moment of hesitation, the gentlemen—already well wined—scarce knowing what to call for. Crozier cuts the Gordian knot by proposing:
“A round of punches à la Romaine!”
Universal assent to this delectable drink; as all know just the thing for a night-cap.