I held the cork down for a second with my thumb, while I uttered once more, in my most awesome tone, the mystic words: "Hokey--pokey--winky--wum!" then I let it fly suddenly.

The soda-water was well up.

The cork bounded to the ceiling; the contents of the bottle spurted out over the place in the most impressive fashion.
For a minute the Lamas drew back alarmed.

The thing seemed almost devilish.

Then slowly, reassured by our composure, they crept back and looked.