All the men, roused to a pitch of frenzied self-
glorification by his speech, do likewise. There is a deafening
metallic roar, through which Yank's voice can be heard bellowing.]
Slaves, hell! We run de whole woiks. All de rich guys dat tink
dey're somep'n, dey ain't nothin'! Dey don't belong. But us guys,
we're in de move, we're at de bottom, de whole ting is us! [Paddy
from the start of Yank's speech has been taking one gulp after
another from his bottle, at first frightenedly, as if he were
afraid to listen, then desperately, as if to drown his senses, but
finally has achieved complete indifferent, even amused,
drunkenness. Yank sees his lips moving. He quells the uproar with
a shout.] Hey, youse guys, take it easy! Wait a moment! De nutty
Harp is sayin' someth'n.
PADDY--[Is heard now--throws his head back with a mocking burst of
laughter.] Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho---
YANK--[Drawing back his fist, with a snarl.] Aw! Look out who
yuh're givin' the bark!
PADDY--[Begins to sing the "Muler of Dee" with enormous good-
nature.]
"I care for nobody, no, not I,
And nobody cares for me."
YANK--[Good-natured himself in a flash, interrupts PADDY with a
slap on the bare back like a report.] Dat's de stuff! Now yuh're
gettin' wise to somep'n. Care for nobody, dat's de dope! To hell
wit 'em all! And nix on nobody else carin'.
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