We ate this reformed food and found we were growing weaker every day at the puddling furnace.

We got the blues and became sullen.

Gradually all laughter ceased in that boarding-house.

We even felt too low to fight.
At the end of two weeks there was one general cry: "Hog fat, and plenty of it!" Our engines had run out of fuel; and now we knew what we needed.
We were so crazy for bacon that if a hog had crossed our path we would have leaped on him like a lion and eaten him alive.
Fat came back to the table, and the Greasy Spoon again rang with laughter.

How foolish that reformer was! He did no work himself and was a dyspeptic.