Porous was determined to sing "Annie Laurie," although he hung on the last word of the first line until out of breath and then began anew.

Silent, not wishing to be outdone, bawled at the top of his lungs a medley of music-hall words to the air of a hymn.
Tex, walking as awkwardly as any cow-puncher, approached Tom Lee's, his two friends trailing erratically, arm in arm, in his rear.

Swinging his arm he struck the door a resounding blow and entered, hand on gun, as it crashed back.

Porous and Silent stood in the doorway and quarreled as to what each should drink and, compromising, lurched in and seated themselves on a table and resumed their vocal perpetrations.
Tex swaggered over to the bar and tossed a quarter upon it: "Corn juice," he laconically exclaimed.

Tossing off the liquor and glancing at his howling friends, he shrugged his shoulders and strode out by the rear door, slamming it after him.