at a letter before him, but was still far from satisfied.  "Damn a man
who will make his 'J's' in such a heathenish way." 

"Try it again, Wittrock," said one of his companions. 

"Curse you," shouted the man called Wittrock.  "How often must I tell you
not to call me that name.  By God, I'll bore a hole through you yet, d'ye
mind, now." 

"Oh, no harm been done, Cummings; no need of your flying in such a stew
for nothing.  We're all in the same box here, eh?" 

"Well, you be more careful hereafter," said "Cummings," and again he
bent to his laborious task of forging the name of "J.B.  Barrett." 

Nothing was heard for half an hour but the scratching of the pen, or the
muttered curses of Cummings (as he was called). 

Suddenly he threw down his pen with a laugh of triumph, and holding a
piece of paper before him, exclaimed: "There, lads, there it is; there's