He had to go on; there was no other way, at least none that an animal of his calibre could think of.

At the close of each day's diary, the same dismal silence followed.

When at last he finished his tale and sprung the indelicate surprise which is wont to fetch a crash of laughter, not a ripple of sound resulted.

It was as if the tale had been told to dead men.

After what seemed a long, long time, somebody sighed, somebody else stirred in his seat; presently, the men dropped into a low murmur of confidential talk, each with his neighbor, and the incident was closed.