You climb down again and sit in the dim, smoky little room and look about you.

It is the most perfect pirate's den you can imagine.

On the walls hang huge casks and kegs and wine bottles in their straw covers--all the sign manuals of past and future orgies.

Yet the 'Pirate's Den' is 'dry'-- straw-dry, brick-dry--as dry as the Sahara.
If you want a 'drink' the well-mannered 'cut-throat' who serves you will give you a mighty mug of ginger-ale or sarsaparilla.

If you are a real Villager and can still play at being a real pirate you drink it without a smile, and solemnly consider it real red wine filched at the end of a cutlass from captured merchantmen on the high seas.