After their exit a silence fell, and the miners looked at each other
with ludicrous faces.
"An' he never asked us to take a drink!" exclaimed one sorrowfully.
"That settles it. It may not be fer th' good of th' camp, Jim Fay, but
I reckons it ain't much fer th' harm of it. I goes you."
"Me to," "and me," "and me," shouted other voices.
Fay leaped on the bar and spread his arms abroad.
"Speech! Speech!" they cried.
"Gentlemen of the great and glorious West!" he began. "It rejoices me
to observe this spirit animating your bosoms. Trampling down the finer
feelings that you all possess to such an unlimited degree, putting
aside all thought of merely material prosperity, you are now prepared,
at whatever cost, to ally yourselves with that higher poetic justice
which is above barter, above mere expediency, above even the ordinary
this-for-that fairness which often passes as justice among the effete
and unenlightened savages of the East. Gentlemen of the great and
glorious West, I congratulate you!"
The miners stood close around the bar. Every man's face bore a broad
grin. At this point they interrupted with howls and cat-calls of
applause.
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