"Han and I went ashore," said Perry, staring puzzledly at the milk-can from which a tiny stream was trickling past the loosened stopper. "Then we went to look for our boat and I found this and I yelled to him and he didn't come and so I started back to the boat to get some—" Perry suddenly remembered his affliction. "Say, got any alcohol?" he asked anxiously.
"Alcohol? I don't know. Why?"
"I want some." Perry started to scramble out of the tender. "I got poisoned."
"Snake?" asked Cas hopefully and eagerly.
"Poison-ivy."
"Oh!" The other's voice held keen disappointment. "Well, what do you want alcohol for?"
"It's good for it," explained Perry, reaching the cockpit. "See if you've got any, will you, Cas?"
"Y-yes but, honestly, Perry, I wouldn't try it if I were you."
"Why not!"
"Why—why, if you go and drink a lot of alcohol—Besides, I'm all alone here, and if you got—got troublesome—"