"Ask him if he don't want some," Penrod whispered urgently. "Quit
drinkin' it! It's no good any more. Ask him!"

"What for?" demanded the practical Sam.

"Go on and ask him!" whispered Penrod fiercely.

"Say, M'rice!" Sam called, waving the bottle. "Want some?"

"Bring it here!" Mr. Levy requested.

"Come on over and get some," returned Sam, being prompted.

"I can't. Penrod Schofield's after me."

"No, I'm not," said Penrod reassuringly. "I won't touch you, M'rice.
I made up with you yesterday afternoon--don't you remember? You're all
right with me, M'rice."

Maurice looked undecided. But Penrod had the delectable bottle again,
and tilting it above his lips, affected to let the cool liquid purl
enrichingly into him, while with his right hand he stroked his middle
facade ineffably. Maurice's mouth watered.

"Here!" cried Sam, stirred again by the superb manifestations of his
friend. "Gimme that!"

Penrod brought the bottle down, surprisingly full after so much gusto,
but withheld it from Sam; and the two scuffled for its possession.