Then the Colonel fell to talking volubly, boastfully.
The landlady, who began to mislike their looks, drew near. The Colonel beckoned her nearer still, and thrust a piece of gold into her hand.
“Let that pay the reckoning,” said he, very magnificent.
She gaped at such prodigality, dropped him a curtsy, and withdrew again at once, reflecting that appearances can be very deceptive.
The Colonel resumed his talk. Whether from the soporific dreariness of this or from the potency of the libations, Jake’s eyelids were growing so heavy that he appeared to have a difficulty in keeping them from closing, whilst Nat was hardly in better case. Presently, surrendering to the luxurious torpor that pervaded him, Jake folded his arms upon the table, and laid his sleepy head upon them.
At this, his fellow took alarm, and leaned across in an attempt to rouse him.
“Hi! Jake! We gotter carry ... ladyship home.”
“Dammer ladyship,” grunted Jake in the very act of falling asleep.
With dazed eyes Nat looked helplessly at the Colonel and shaped his lips to utterance by a visible effort.
“Too much ... drink,” he said thickly. “Not used ... wine.”