They named and tossed off their liquor, and then without a word of farewell or thanks shambled back to their roosting places.
“What’s the matter, Billy?” demanded the captain, looking about curiously. “Where’s your usual crowd?”
“They’re all down at the Verandah,” replied the barkeeper, passing a cloth over the satiny wood of the bar. “Dorgan’s got a girl tending bar. Pays her some ungodly 399 wages; and he’s getting all the crowd. He’d better make the most of it while it lasts. She won’t stay a week.”
“Why not?” I asked curiously.
“Married; sure,” replied the barkeeper briefly.
“And the glass pillars will always be here; eh, Billy?” suggested the captain. “Nevertheless I believe we’ll just wander down and look her over.”
“Sure,” said Billy indifferently; “that’s where all the rest are.”
The Verandah, situated on the Plaza, was crowded to the doors. Behind the bar slaved a half dozen busy drink-mixers. The girl, and a very pretty girl she was, passed the drinks over the counter, and took in the dust.
“She’s straight,” observed the captain sagaciously, after inspection; “if she wasn’t there wouldn’t be such a gang. The other sort is plenty enough.”
We did not try to get near the bar, but after a few moments regained the street. The captain said farewell; and we hunted up, by his direction, the New York Tonsorial Emporium. There we had five dollars’ worth of various things done to us; after which we bought new clothes. The old ones we threw out into the street along with a vast collection of others contributed by our predecessors.