“Thish is lots of fun,” he announced.
“Par’ner, you ain’t started,” declared Lonnie. “You stay with us and we’ll show yuh bush’ls ’f di’monds. Oh, yessir, you’ll shee lots of’m. We’ll show yuh levity, y’betcha.”
Supper time came, but none of them was hungry. Darkness came down upon Pinnacle City, and still those six men leaned on the bar, their toasts becoming more and more elaborate. Then Lonnie leaned his forehead against the bar and wept bitterly.
“Thish is all there ish,” he announced. “Nothin’ t’ do. Spen’ all day gettin’ drunk, and there’s nothin’ t’ do but go home.”
“O-o-o-oh, my!” wailed Nebrasky. “Tha’s a fac’. The jigger that wrote ‘Home Sweet Home’ must ’a’ never got out. Wha’s to be done, I’d crave to get an answer? No entertainment? Can’t you think of anythin’, Misser Dete
