Billy Murphy, and Joe Lloyd, and all the survivors of the old guard, got around me and their arms around me.

Charley seized the can and started for Jorgensen's saloon across the railroad tracks.
That meant beer.

I wanted whisky, so I called after him to bring a flask.
Many times that flask journeyed across the railroad tracks and back.
More old friends of the old free and easy times dropped in, fishermen, Greeks, and Russians, and French.

They took turns in treating, and treated all around in turn again.

They came and went, but I stayed on and drank with all.