"Say, when," he said, filling the glasses and keeping on, in spite of
their protests, until each glass was full.

"I guess it looks pretty good to you to see the stuff again," he
said, stepping back and rubbing his hands like one warmed by the
consciousness of a good deed. "It ain't very plentiful around here."

"Well," said Gregg, swinging up his glass, "here's in your eye,
Ronicky, and here's to you, sir!"

"Wait," replied Ronicky Doone. "Hold on a minute, Bill. Looks to me
like you ain't drinking," he said to the proprietor.

The fat man waved the suggestion aside. "Never touch it," he assured
them. "Used to indulge a little in light wines and beers when the
country was wet, but when it went dry the stuff didn't mean enough to
me to make it worth while dodging the law. I just manage to keep a
little of it around for old friends and men out of a dry country."

"But we got a funny habit out in our country. We can't no ways drink
unless the gent that's setting them out takes something himself. It
ain't done that way in our part of the land," said Ronicky.

"It ain't?"

"Never!"

"Come, come! That's a good joke. But, even if I can't be with you,
boys, drink hearty."