“Hear him, hear him!” thundered the Major, as though addressing some present but invisible avenging demon; “hear the vandal! Bitters in a julep! Mighty, intelligent shade of Simple Simon! Attend and observe the idiocy of this savage!” Then he crossed to the astonished Chinaman and took him gently by the collar.
“Bumgarner,” he said softly, “you are a frightful example of man's neglect. You have been trained by a Massachusetts Yankee. Ergo, your lack of knowledge is sublime. Bitters you might put in a plebeian gin fizz, and be happy thereafter. Bitters you might put in a high ball of whiskey, and live thereafter. But bitters in a julep, magnum sacrum! the gods would crush you! Bumgarner, you are an awful throbbing error, and you have had a providential escape from death. Now,” continued the Major, seizing the Chinaman by the shoulder and turning him toward the door, “you may depart, and burn a few joss sticks, and ponder upon my remarks.”
The almond-eyed Celestial vanished, wondering vaguely if it had not been better to remain in San Francisco and launder shirts in a cellar than to attempt to cater to the depraved taste of such incomprehensible foreign devils.
“Now, Bill,” continued the Major, seating himself at the table, “I want to know what you are going to do.”
“About what?” asked the gambler.
“About this money which you owe the State,” said the Major. “Do you realize, sir, that our stand in the Southwest is just about closing, and that we have got to square up and pull out?”
“I reckon so,” replied the gambler, as though it were a matter of no importance.
“You reckon so! You irresponsible truck horse! You reckon so!” snorted the Major. “You will cease to indulge in the dainty pastime of speculation when you get a log-chain on your leg and a striped suit on your back.”
The Secretary of State laughed. “Something will turn up,” he said.
“Ambercrombie Hergan,” said the Major, pounding the table with his hand, “for a broken, a branded, a long-suffering cow pony of Satan, you have the blindest, most stupendous Presbyterian faith in Providence of any white creature ambling south of the Central Pacific Railroad; but you're sweetening on a bluff this hand, and I am going to call you.”