Then, without saying more, a box of dominoes was produced, and Joe soon found himself, he did not know how, the Sergeant’s partner, while Lazyman and Outofwork were opposed to them.
“Is it pooty good livin in your trade, Mr. Sergeant?” asked Joe.
“Not bad,” said the Sergeant; “that is five-one, I think”—referring to the play.
“Rump steaks and ingons aint bad living,” said Outofwork.
“No,” said the Sergeant, “and there’s nothing I like better than a good thick mutton chop for breakfast—let me see, what’s the game?”
“Ah!” said Joe, smacking his lips, “mutton chops is the best thing out; I aint had one in my mouth, though, for a doocid long time; I likes em with plenty o’ fat an gravy loike.”
“You see,” said the Sergeant, “when you’ve been out for a two or three mile ride before breakfast in the fresh country air, a chap wants something good for breakfast, and a mutton chop’s none too much for him.”
“No,” answered Joe, “I could tackle three.”
“Yes,” said Sergeant Goodtale, “but some are much larger than others.”
“So em be,” agreed Joe.