"Well, now, see here, young man, if ever you're in doubt again about a glass of whisky like that one there, you just remark to yourself that while there may be a few things you might do with it, there's just one you can't. There's only one spot for whisky, and that's inside some fellow that knows something. Heavens and earth! Didn't know what to do with it, eh?"
He peered curiously into Shock's face as if he found him an interesting study.
"No," said Shock seriously, "you see, I couldn't drink it—never did in my life."
The old man drew nearer to him. "Say," touching him with his forefinger on the chest, "if I could only be sure you'd keep fresh I'd put you in a case. They'd come a mighty long way in this country to see you, you bet."
Bill Lee's anger and disgust were giving place to curiosity.
"What are you, anyway?" he enquired.
"Well, my boss told me to-day I was a prospector." Shock's mind reverted, as he spoke, to that last conversation with his Convener.
"Prospector," echoed the old man. "What for, land, coal?"
"No, men."
"What?" The old man looked as if he could not have heard aright.