But the Parson never made that test. If the Banded Seven had seen him at that moment they would assuredly have been frightened, for his face underwent a most startling and amazing transformation. He had picked up the bottle; glanced at its label. And the next instant his eyes seemed fairly to pop up out of his head. His jaw dropped, his hands relaxed, and the wondrous and long-sought powder was scattered over the floor.
The Parson was ordinarily a quick thinker, but it took a time for that thought, whatever it was, with all its horrible import, to flash across his mind. And meanwhile his face was a picture of consternation.
Then suddenly he leaped to his feet with a perfect gasp of horror, knocking the candle over and making the bottles rattle.
“By the thunderbolts of Jove!” he cried. “By the hounds of Diana! By the distaff of Minerva!”
The Parson was striding up and down his tent by this time, utterly regardless of chemistry, geology, and possible discovery in the bargain.
“By the steeds of Apollo!” he muttered. “By the waters of the Styx, by the scepter of Zeus, by the cap of Mercury, by the apple of Venus and the bow of Ulyssus! By the nine immortals and the Seven Hills of Rome!——”
At this stage of the proceedings the agitated chemist was out in the company street, and striding away in the darkness.
“By the eagle of Ganymede, by the shield of Mars, by the temple of Janus, by the trident of Neptune!”
During this the gentleman was speeding out of camp, causing the sentry, who thought he was crazy, so much alarm that he forgot to challenge. By the time he recovered the Parson was gone and only an echo of his voice remained——
“By the forge of Vulcan, by the cave of Æolus, by the flames of Vesta!”