Joe climbed out of the cab and walked stiffly into the office. He came out after a few minutes, carrying a gallon-size earthenware jar. Hienie reached forward and took it from him.
Joe stood watching. Hienie drew the cork with his teeth and carefully raised the jar to his mouth. He took a long pull and blinked. He coughed, and began to rub his coat front with the palm of his hand. “Yeah,” he said, when he could get his breath, “it’s the McCoy all right.”
Joe shifted about, anxiously eyeing the bottle, but Hienie paid no attention. He took another long pull from the jar, then hurriedly handed it to Joe. “My Gawd,” he gasped, “it went down as far as my boots that time.”
Joe wrapped himself round the jar lovingly and kept it glued to his mouth.
After almost a minute, Hienie leant forward. “Hey!” he shouted sharply. “Take it easy. Hey! Lay off, will you?”
Joe removed himself from the jar with a little shudder. His eyes swam mistily as he handed it back. “Pretty nice,” he said; “that’s swell poison.”
Hienie looked at him admiringly. “You certainly can take it,” he said.
Joe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I can take it all right, but it sortta sneaks up on me and bonk—I’m out.”
Hienie wasn’t listening, he was busy with the jar again.
Joe said, when he was through: “I’m just goin’ to look at my patient, and then we’ll dust.”