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Teeftallow

Involuntarily both stopped and stood looking at the goal of their pilgrimage. Mr. Beavers reached very solemnly in his hip pocket and drew out a pint bottle about a fourth full. He removed the cork and held the flask up toward Irontown, and then toward Abner.

"Here's luck," he said.

He drank, then wiped the mouth of the bottle on his dirty sleeve and handed it to the youth.

Abner never before had taken a drink. He looked at the bottle with a queer trembly sensation and asked uneasily, "Will it make me drunk, Mr. Beavers?"

"Why, it never does uffeck me none," stated the rather bunged-up mule driver simply.

Abner suddenly became ashamed of his qualms. He took the bottle and held it up toward the village.

"Here's luck," he repeated; took a mouthful of the fiery liquid, strangled, sputtered, but swallowed it, and then stood blinking at Mr. Beavers with tears in his eyes.

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