"Here, sports, fill up the glasses with the good old liquor."
When the three glasses and two toothmugs had received their exact portion of the bitter stuff, which had been allowed to foam copiously in order to eke out, the five desperadoes solemnly touched glasses and Slops Barnett, who had visited in Princeton, led them in that whispered toast that is the acme of devilment:
"Then stand by your glasses steady,
This world is a world full of lies.
Then here's to the dead already dead,
And here's to the next man who dies!"
It was terrific. Stover, quite moved, looked about the circle, thought that Pee-wee looked the nearest to the earthworm and repeated solemnly:
"To the next man who dies."
At this moment the Tennessee Shad was heard derisively intoning:
"Ring around a rosie,
Pocket full of posie.
Oats, peas, beans and barley grows.
Open the ring and take her in
And kiss her when you get her in!"
They paid no heed. They felt too acutely the solemnity of life and the fleeting hour of pleasure to be deterred by even the lathery aspect of their own faces, which emerged from the suds of the beer ready for the barber.
"Dish out the bunny," said Slops, putting down his mug with a reckless look.
Suddenly there came an impressive knock and the voice of Mr. Bundy saying: