Sam rolled his eyes painfully to catch a glimpse of the historic bottle. Clark took it and applied it to Sam's lips. It was red-hot stuff, and the whole audience rose to watch its effect upon the victim at the stake. Sam swallowed it as if it had been lemonade. In fact, he was only aware of the honor that he was receiving. He had only enough earthly consciousness left to notice that one of the cadets in the crowd was photographing him with a kodak, and accordingly he did not even wink.
"By Jove, he's lined with tin," ejaculated Saunders, whose deflected nose gave him a sinister expression. "You ought to have had his plumbing, Clark."
"Shut up and mind your own business," said Clark. "Come, let's give him the tub. This won't do. That other chap's happy enough where he is."
Sam was untied again and led forward to the middle of the ring, the faithful Smith still keeping close to him.
"Is that an old tub?" whispered Sam, still standing stiffly as if his body had permanently taken the "braced" shape.
"I should say so. All the generals were ducked in it. Kneel down there and look in. Do you see that round dent in the middle? That's where General Meriden bumped his head in it. He never did things by halves."
Sam did as he was told, and he felt that he was in a proper attitude upon his knees at such a shrine. To him it was holy water.
"Now, Jinks," squeaked Clark.
"Yes, sir," answered Sam.
"Stand on your head now in that tub, and be quick about it."