The revellers became self-conscious under this scrutiny.

They were moved to new displays of wealth.
"I smelled 'em cookin' bologna in the back room of Hire's butcher shop," remarked the bringer of the pennygrabs.

"It smelt grand." The pliant host needed no more.

He was tinder to such a spark.
"Get a quarter's worth, Howard," and the slave bounded off, to return with a splendid rosy garland of the stuff, still warm and odorous.
Again the new knife of Merle was used.

The now widely diffused scent of bologna reached the three watchers, and appeared to madden one of them beyond any restraint of good manners.