“‘Ay,’ says he; ‘been used—been used, now, for nigh sixty year.’
“‘She’s all wore out?’ says I.
“‘No,’ says he; ‘not wore out.’
“‘She’d grow nothin’?’ says I.
“‘Well,’ says he, ‘nothin’ much is expected, Tumm,’ says he, ‘in that line.’
“I give a tug at my pocket, an’, ecod! out jumped the bottle o’ Scotch.
“‘Well, well!’ says he. ‘Dear man! But I bet ye,’ says he, ‘that you isn’t fetched no pain-killer.’
“‘That I is!’ says I.
“‘Then,’ says he, ‘about half an’ half, Tumm, with a dash o’ water; that’s the way I likes it when I takes it.’
“So we fell to, ol’ Bill Hulk an’ me, on the Scotch an’ the pain-killer.