"He put his hand very careful toward the back. 'E. G. W., says he,' 'my fingers have teched something cold and smooth, just like a bottle—pull hard, Ezekiel.'
"I took a long breath and pulled hard.
"'It is round,' says William Pemberton. 'It is a bottle.'
"Nothin' could be heard but the beatin' of our hearts.
"'Is it—is it—heavy, William?' I falters. Then you couldn't hear nothin', for our hearts had cease to beat. He let loose of a roar same as a lion that's skipped atop of his prey.
'Ezekiel G. W. Scraggs!' he shrieks, 'she's full!'
"'I wish no better luck myself,' says I. 'Trot her out!'
"When the light of the lantern fell upon that bottle we got a shock. Instead of the cheerin' color that usually fills useful bottles, the contents of this here one was green—green as grass off a June hillside.
"'Well!' says William, 'what in—where in—why, it's perfumery!' he hollers, and raises it for a smash.
"'Hold, William! Hold!' says I. 'It's got red sealin'-wax on the top. If you break it before we take a sample you and me is the best of friends parted in the middle, not to mention the disturbance we'll make in this room.'