"Somebody's got to drink first. You can't all drink to onct." As he spoke he arranged the blades between his fingers so that they appeared the same length. The men stopped quarrelling and faced Tomkins.
"Shortest drinks first," said he. "Step up, Growls, and take a chance."
Growls drew a short blade, Hummocks a shorter, Bill Ware a very short one, and, at last, the longest of all was left in Tomkins's hand. The men crowded close together with an eagerness which should have been inspired by a more worthy motive.
"It's Bill Ware," said Tomkins; and, without wasting time unnecessarily, Bill Ware plumped himself upon the ground, his mouth to the bunghole. Tomkins held a battered old watch in his hand, and kept his eyes fixed upon the second hand.
"Ten seconds apiece," said Tomkins. "Time!" he cried suddenly. Bill Ware had almost to be dragged from the keg by sheer force.
"You, Hummocks!" said Tomkins and the scene was repeated. The thirsty crew had even a harder tussle to pull Hummocks from the keg than they had with Bill Ware, Ware himself tugging at Hummocks's legs, while the rest endeavoured to unclasp his arms from the keg.
"My turn," muttered Growls, in that tone which had procured him his name. "Time me, boys, but time me fair."
"That cask's gettin' light," remarked Tomkins in an anxious tone of voice.
"It's just like a play," whispered Cynthia. "I never saw a play but once. Aunt Mary 'Zekel thinks it's wicked. It was a more refined play than this, but I consider this all very interesting."
"What about the girl?" asked I.