runned inter Mobile, and they've turned her into a cruiser," Bird Riley
explained.

"How big is she?"

"I heerd some un say she was about eight hun'ed tons: an' I'll bet
she'll pick up every Yankee craft that she gits a sight on."

"And you say the Trafladagar is at anchor off the p'int?" added Christy,
not daring to call the steamer by her true name.

"That's jest where she is; and the West Wind is hitched to her, like a
tandem team," replied Bird Riley. "Look yere, Tom Bulger, you don't make
love to that bottle as though you meant business. Take another drink,
and show you done got some manhood in yer."

The bottle went the rounds again, and the guests apparently took long
pulls; but really they did not taste a drop of the infernal liquid.

"That's good pizen, Bird Riley; but it is not jest the stingo that I
like best," said Christy, as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve in
proper form, for he did not like the smell of the fluid lightning that
clung to his lips.

"Whiskey suits me most; but they waste the corn makin' bread on't, and
there ain't much on't left to make the staff of life. Howsomever, we
don't choke to death on apple-jack, when we can get enough on't," argued
Bird Riley.

"Jest now you got a tandem team hitched up out on the Trafladagar and