It made him feel greedy and in a hurry.

The first spoonful, a trifle bitter, was not so pleasant at the beginning, but a moment after he swallowed it a hot prickling set in and seemed to dart through him from extremity to extremity.
Slowly, as he ate, the taste grew more agreeable, and all the effects of his debauch disappeared.

It was like magic; his blood warmed and glowed, as if touched with mysterious fire.
"What is this in this soup, Father Beret, that makes it so searching and refreshing ?" he demanded, when the bowl was empty.
Father Beret shook his head and smiled drolly.
"That I cannot divulge, my son, owing to a promise I had to make to the aged Indian who gave me the secret.

It is the elixir of the Miamis.
Only their consecrated medicine men hold the recipe.

The stimulation is but temporary." Just then someone knocked on the door.