"Is my neck still bloody?
No, yours doesn't show." We met them at the stairhead, and Monty did not seem to notice anything.
"Fred has composed a song to the moonlight on Zanzibar roadstead while you fellows were merely after-dinner mundane.

D'you suppose the landlord 'ud make trouble if we let him sing it ?" "Let's hope so!" said Will.

"I'm itching for a row like they say drovers in Monty's country itch for mile-stones! Let Fred warble.
I'll fight whoever comes!" Monty eyed him and me swiftly, but made no comment.
"Bill's homesick!" said Fred.

"The U.S.eagle wants its Bowery! We'll soothe the fowl with thoughts of other things--where's the concertina ?" "No, no, Fred, that'll be too much din!" Monty made a grab for the instrument, but Fred raised it above his head and brought it down between his knees with chords that crashed like wedding bells.

Then he changed to softer, languorous music, and when he had picked out an air to suit his mood, sat down and turned art loose to do her worst.
He has a good voice.