I did not have to urge them to accept it.

They laughed a good deal at my stovepipe hat and evening dress, but because of the champagne they let me off without as much guying as I would otherwise have received.
Jumping on our horses, we struck out on the trail of the soldiers.

It was about one o'clock when we overtook them.

As we neared the rear guard, I pulled off my overcoat and strapped it behind my saddle.

I also put my hair up under my stovepipe hat and galloped past the command, to all appearances fresh from a New York ballroom.
"Look at the dude! Look at the dude!" they shouted as I rode among them.