“Drink up and ’ave another,” said Easton as he drained his own glass.
“I don’t mind if I do,” replied Crass, pouring what remained of the pint down his throat.
Philpot’s glass had been empty for some time.
“Same again,” said Easton, addressing the Old Dear and putting six pennies on the counter.
By this time the Semi-drunk had again opened fire on the board, but he seemed to have lost the range, for none of the rings scored.
They flew all over the place, and he finished his innings without increasing his total.
The Besotted Wretch now sailed in and speedily piled up 37. Then the Semi-drunk had another go, and succeeded in getting 8. His case appeared hopeless, but his opponent in his next innings seemed to go all to pieces. Twice he missed the board altogether, and when he did hit it he failed to score, until the very last throw, when he made 1. Then the Semi-drunk went in again and got 10.
The scores were now:
Besotted Wretch ........................ 42
Semi-drunk ................................ 31
So far it was impossible to foresee the end. It was anybody’s game. Crass became so excited that he absentmindedly opened his mouth and shot his second pint down into his stomach with a single gulp, and Bundy also drained his glass and called upon Philpot and Easton to drink up and have another, which they accordingly did.