“‘It is indeed sad,’ says Pendergast, ‘to see my countrymen in such circumstances.’
“‘Cut ’arf of that out, old party,’ says Liverpool. ‘Cawn’t you tell a member of the British upper classes when you see one?’
“‘Shut up,’ I told Liverpool. ‘You’re on foreign soil now, or that portion of it that’s not on you.’
“‘And on this day, too!’ goes on Pendergast, grievous—‘on this most glorious day of the year when we should all be celebrating the dawn of Christian civilization and the downfall of the wicked.’
“‘I did notice bunting and bouquets decorating the town, reverend,’ says I, ‘but I didn’t know what it was for. We’ve been so long out of touch with calendars that we didn’t know whether it was summer time or Saturday afternoon.’
“‘Here is two dollars,’ says Pendergast digging up two Chili silver wheels and handing ’em to me. ‘Go, my men, and observe the rest of the day in a befitting manner.’
“Me and Liverpool thanked him kindly, and walked away.
“‘Shall we eat?’ I asks.
“‘Oh, ’ell!’ says Liverpool. ‘What’s money for?’
“‘Very well, then,’ I says, ‘since you insist upon it, we’ll drink.’