swallering; but you can't take the bottle out of your mouth and commence
again. Soon's you quit swallering it's Sam's turn."

"No; you can have next, Penrod," said Sam.

"Well, anyway, I mean M'rice has to give the bottle up the minute he
stops swallering."

Craft appeared upon the face of Maurice, like a poster pasted on a wall.

"I can drink so long I don't stop swallering?"

"Yes; that's it."

"All right!" he cried. "Gimme the bottle!"

And Penrod placed it in his hand.

"You promise to let me drink until I quit swallering?" Maurice insisted.

"Yes!" said both boys together.

With that, Maurice placed the bottle to his lips and began to drink.
Penrod and Sam leaned forward in breathless excitement. They had feared
Maurice might smell the contents of the bottle; but that danger was
past--this was the crucial moment. Their fondest hope was that he would
make his first swallow a voracious one--it was impossible to imagine a
second. They expected one big, gulping swallow and then an explosion,
with fountain effects.