"Your bell--" began the assistant. "You lie! Get out! I was telling a joke to my old friend Harrigan. Maybe I leaned back against the bell. Shake hands with Harrigan. I've known him for years." Incredulous, Harrigan lowered his clenched fist and relaxed it to meet the hesitant hand of the assistant. "Now be off," growled the chief, and the others fled. As the door closed, Harrigan turned in stupid amazement upon the Scotchman. The latter had dropped into his chair again and now looked at Harrigan with twinkling eyes. "You'd have fought 'em all, eh, lad?" He burst into heavy laughter. "Ah, the blue devil that came in your eyes! Why did I not let them have one whirl at you? Ha, ha, ha!" "Wake me up," muttered Harrigan. "I'm dreamin'!" "There's a thick lie in my throat," said Campbell. "I must wash it out and leave a truth there!" He opened a small cupboard, exposing a formidable array of black and green bottles. One of the black he pulled down, as well as two small glasses, which he filled to the brim. "To your bonny blue eyes, lad!" he said, and raised a glass. "Here's an end to the mutiny--and a drop to our old friendship!" Harrigan, still with clouded mind, raised the glass and drank. It was a fine sherry wine. "How old would you say that wine was?" queried the Scotchman with exaggerated carelessness. The carelessness did not deceive Harrigan. His mind went blanker still, for he knew little about good wines. "Well?" asked the engineer. "H-m!" muttered Harrigan, and racked his brain to remember the ages at which a good vintage becomes a rare old wine. "About thirty-five years." "By the Lord!" cried Campbell. "It never fails--a strong man knows his liquor like a book! You're almost right. Add three years and you have it! Thirty-eight years in sunshine and shadow!" He leaned back and gazed dreamily up to the ceiling. "Think of it," he went on in a reverent murmur. "Men have been born and grown strong and then started toward the shady side of life since this wine was put in the bottle. For thirty-eight years it has been gathering and saving its perfume--draw a breath of it now, lad!--and when I uncork the bottle, all the odor blows out to me at once." "True," said Harrigan, nodding sagely. "I've thought the same thing, but never found the words for it, chief." "Have you?" asked Campbell eagerly. "Sit down, lad; sit down! Well, well! Good wine was put on earth for a blessing, but men have misused it, Harrigan--but hear me preaching when I ought to be praying!" "Prayin'?" repeated the diplomatic Harrigan. "No, no, man! Maybe you've drunk a good store of liquor, but it shines through you. It puts a flush on your face like a sun shinin' through a cloud. You'd hearten any man on a dark day!" He could not resist the play on the words, and a shadow crossed the face of the engineer.