"Satisfied?" queried the tourist, laughingly.
"Never enjoyed a bit o' grub so much in my life," said Bill.
"Ditto," said Sam. "If any fault could be found, there was a bit too much salt in 'em. Conducive to thirst rather."
"Now, isn't that vexing?" said the tourist. "If only I had thought of you before emptying the flask! There isn't a house of refreshment within miles."
"We couldn't go to it if there was," Bill began, and then bit his lip as Sam violently nudged him to be silent.
"Ah, I have it!" the tourist cried. "Wait a moment till I unstrap my knapsack. I have a little flask in there which I keep in reserve. It contains some rather fine old cognac—an excellent pick-me-up. If I might offer you a draught of that—but perhaps you are teetotal?"
"Not on your dreamy eyes," said Bill, with unconcealed eagerness.
"We'll be glad of a wee reviver, thankee, sir," said the more tactful Sam. "It's a cold job waiting here for the—for the boss."
"You're very truly welcome, gentlemen." So saying, the tourist half-filled the top of the empty flask with some of the contents of the smaller one. "Which of you drinks first?"
Bill's impoliter hand stretched farthest, and it was he who first had the delight of smacking his lips over the spirit. Excellent it must have been, for his countenance glowed.