"Name your snake-juice! The winner pays!" "This is my night!" he was shouting, ten minutes later.

"I'm the lone he-wolf, and I've seen thirty winters.

This is my birthday, my one day in the year, and I can put any man on his back.

Come on, you-all! I'm going to put you-all in the snow.

Come on, you chechaquos [1] and sourdoughs[2], and get your baptism!" The rout streamed out of doors, all save the barkeepers and the singing Bacchuses.