"We'll just have a wee dthrop as gintlemen together on the head uv the divilmint, and part—frinds."
He drew an amber-coloured flask from his pocket.
"'Tis the rale Irish, Nick. Be afthurr washin' down a swate swallow."
He extended the bottle convivially.
Nick took in the sight with fascinated and thirsty eyes. All hostility magically vanished and a supreme joy capered shamelessly into his face.
"Don't care if I do," said he, with a too casual unconcern. "Dad, that's prime stuff!" was his genuine approval as he handed back the flask.
"Shure I'm afthurr sayin' the same mesilf. Yer over modest, lad. Take a sip that wull tingle the toes uv ye."
So gracious a pressure was not to be resisted, and Nick responded with a ready acquiescence that left nothing to be desired. Easy emulated in pantomime, tipping the flask adroitly but permitting no drop to pass his lips. Taking another "sensation," Nick scurried off to his own tank and began pumping vigorously. Soon, however, he felt the desire for still another touch and was back at the flask. Easy Murphy kept the bottle supplied from some mysterious source about his person. So the best part of an hour passed and signs began to appear that Nick was rivalling the tanks in the quantity of liquid he was carrying. In the meantime Easy had leisurely filled his own tank. Suddenly The Mogul, McClure's giant engine, sounded the water call. Nick recognized the signal and, dropping the pump-handle, seized the lines and started off, urging his amazed horses in a line of patter that was new to them. As he drove away Easy slipped down off his own wagon and, stealing craftily after, tapped the bung of Nick's tank with a stone. One or two skillful knocks and the peg fell out, letting the water away in a heavy gush. Throwing the bung into the grass, Easy climbed up on his tank and followed.
Ahead drove Nick, supremely unconscious of the fact that his tank was fast emptying. When they reached the road-allowance he became suddenly confused. His trail lay directly across the road and into a field. His horses would have taken the right way, but Nick pulled them up sharply. His eyesight was temporarily impaired. He could see only the good road running east and west. Pulling on the left line, he turned into the east. Yet he was not sure, and drew up his horses once more. His tongue was thick as he called back:
"Hello, Eashy! (hic) Ish the trail (hic) all right?"