"One of the great points of my salad is plenty of pepper." With a flourish he grabbed the little pepper box to suit the action to the words, and nothing came out. It was empty.
"Waiter, waiter, bring some pepper, you stupid Kerl. Don't you know enough to set the table properly?"
Another pepper receptacle was brought, but it would not work. It was stopped up.
"Gott im Himmel! waiter, you idiot, bring some pepper and be quick about it." And the swaggerer began abusing him, the inn and inferentially men who would not wager in a social little card game. The servitor raced in, mad and muttering, and banged down a big can of the much desired condiment. At last, Gott sei Dank! there was pepper by the wholesale. The salad proceeded on its troubled course.
"You like our Germany—yes?" was inserted. Kirtley assured the three that he had had a pleasant year.
"Our Germany is a great country," explained the tall Teuton in a high, cracked voice. "And after the war it will be a much greater country." He was flushed with drink like the other two. The Germans lifted their glasses again to Der Tag, and Gard, their guest, joined in half-heartedly. There was this time an ugly firmness showing in the demonstration that he did not fancy. He was frankly uncomfortable. His companions did not like it because he drank sparingly in spite of all the vehement urging.
The salad proved to be a wonderful dish, hot and strong, fit for the iron stomach of a "blond beast." It not only bit but was provocative. In the growing conviviality the subject leaped from salad to cards. The winner took out his money. He began shaking it in Gard's eyes, insisting once more on wagering it that his American friend could not pick the card. With the demi-tasses and cigars he ordered the deck and table. He started the game, having locked out the blockhead of a waiter and dropped the key into his own pocket.
Gard would not play. His ire was rising. The small German declared himself mistreated. He jumped up from the table and burst out in a tirade against shoddy Americans. This brought each man to his feet. The dealer, violent and familiar, put his hands on Gard.
"You are a dollar American and dare not bet."
"Please keep your hands off me," cried Kirtley and drew back, shaking with the affront. The German persisted and Gard's football days stood him in good stead. He knocked him down. At this the mask was thrown off.