His favorite companion was Baumann, who had had an increase of missionary zeal during the last half year, and only been kept back by finding that an experienced calculator could ill be spared at the present crisis.

Specht, too, was a special candidate for his favor, Anton's travels and adventures having invested him with a romantic halo in the former's fantastic mind.
Unfortunately, Specht's own position in the good-will of his colleagues had been materially shaken during Anton's absence.

He had long been the butt of all their witticisms, but now Anton was very sorry to see that he was universally disliked.

Even the quartette had given him up--at least there was decided enmity between him and both basses.

Whenever Specht ventured upon an assertion that was not quite incontrovertible, Pix would shrug his shoulders and ejaculate "Pumpkins." Indeed, almost all that Specht said was met by a whisper of "pumpkins" from one or other; and whenever he caught the word, he fell into a towering passion, broke off the discourse, and withdrew.
One evening Anton visited the tabooed clerk in his own room.