"No, I didn't," returned Penrod quickly, holding it away from the eager hand.
"He did, too! Didn't he, Sam?"
Sam could not reply; his eyes, fixed upon the bottle, protruded strangely.
"You heard him—didn't you, Sam?"
"Well, if I did say it I didn't mean it!" said Penrod hastily, quoting from one of the authorities. "Looky here, M'rice, " he continued, assuming a more placative and reasoning tone, "that wouldn't be fair to us. I guess we want some of our own lickrish water, don't we? The bottle ain't much over two-thirds full anyway. What I meant was, you can have all you can drink at one pull."
"How do you mean?"
"Why, this way: you can gulp all you want, so long as you keep swallering; but you can't take the bottle out of your mouth and commence again. Soon's you quit swallering it's Sam's turn."
"No; you can have next, Penrod," said Sam.
"Well, anyway, I mean M'rice has to give the bottle up the minute he stops swallering."
Craft appeared upon the face of Maurice, like a poster pasted on a wall.
"I can drink so long I don't stop swallering?"
