He made a gesture of drinking. The djinn, with a sudden light of comprehension in his face, bowed and vanished with the sarcophagi, to reappear a moment later with an enormous tray on his head. From this he proceeded to deal out a great number of covered metal plates, exactly as a conjurer produces strange objects from a top hat. He set them down in the trench, and with a final flourish brought forth an enormous silver flagon and two heavily chased goblets. These he placed with the other things, and disappeared. "Ah!" said Bill, smacking his lips in anticipation. "This looks more like it. Bit 'olesale in 'is ways, ain't 'e? Seems to take us for the Lord Mayor's Banquet." He lifted the cover from one of the plates and smelt the contents. "Fish o' some kind," he said dubiously. "Smells funny. Never could stand them foreign messes." Alf did likewise to another dish. "Muck," he said succinctly. "Give me good ole roast beef an' mutton every time. I likes to know what I'm eatin', I do. Pour the drink out, Bill." Thus adjured, Bill filled the goblets and passed one to Alf. "Good 'ealth!" "Good 'ealth!" chorused both warriors. Their heads went back in unison; also in unison, they gave a tremendous splutter of disgust. "My Gawd!" said Alf thickly, "I'm poisoned! What the 'ell is it?" "Tastes like a mixture of 'oney an' ink, with a dash o' chlorate o' lime," said Bill, apparently trying to shake the remains of the nauseous mixture from the roof of his mouth. "'Ere, 'ave that blinkin' spook o' yours back again an' tell 'im orf." Once more Alf rubbed the button and summoned his familiar. "What wouldst thou have," said Eustace, appearing promptly, but with a trace of resentment in his face, "I am ready...." "Stow it!" said Alf. "You're a lot _too_ ready, seems to me. Why d'yer want to bring us all this bloomin' lay-out? I didn't order no food, an' if I 'ad I wouldn't 'ave meant un'oly messes like that. You're too blinkin' 'olesale in yer ways. Take it all away. An' as for drink, you've 'arf poisoned us with the muck you've brought." "Lord of might," said Eustace. "These are of the choicest of the meats and the wines of Arabia." "Gawd 'elp Arabia, then. An' I asked for beer, B-E-A-R, beer. D'yer mean to say they don't 'ave it in Arabia?" Eustace shook his head. "Poor blighters!" put in Bill. "No wonder they're 'eathens." "Now, look 'ere, Eustace," said Alf instructively. "Beer is--er--beer is--well, it's.... I say, Bill, 'ow the 'ell can yer explain beer to any one as doesn't know what it is?" "Well," said Bill. "It's brown stuff, made from 'ops an' malt an' such, an' you get it in Blighty--that's England, you savvy--in barrels. Just you 'op over there, an' you'll see. Or any one'll tell you." This lucid explanation sufficed Eustace, for this time he disappeared with the scorned banquet, and returned in a twinkling with two foaming tankards.