Was he sure that they were quite real?
He had not dared to look at his companion for verification, but smiled vaguely.
"Good-evening," said Demorest pleasantly.
Whiskey Dick's face brightened.

"Good-evenin', good-evenin' yourselves, boys--and see how you like it! Lemme interdrush my ole frien' William J.Steptoe, of Red Gulch.

Stepsho--Steptoe--is shtay--ish stay--" He stopped, hiccupped, waved his hand gravely, and with an air of reproachful dignity concluded, "sojourning for the present on the Bar.
We wish to offer our congrashulashen and felish--felish--" He paused again, and, leaning against the door-post, added severely, "-- itations." His companion, however, laughed coarsely, and, pushing past Dick, entered the cabin.

He was a short, powerful man, with a closely cropped crust of beard and hair that seemed to adhere to his round head like moss or lichen.

He cast a glance--furtive rather than curious around the cabin, and said, with a familiarity that had not even good humor to excuse it, "So you're the gay galoots who've made the big strike?
Thought I'd meander up the Hill with this old bloat Alky, and drop in to see the show.