A man who handled dynamite ought to shun liquor above all things, she went on; and Casey agreed restively.

He had not felt any inclination, to imbibe until that minute, when the Irish rose up hotly within him.
"Casey dear, are you _sure_ you have nothing in camp ?" Casey assured her solemnly that he had not and drove off down the hill, vaguely aware that he was not so content with life as he had been.
"Damn that syrup!" he exploded once, quite as abruptly as had the giant powder.

After that he chewed tobacco and drove in broody silence..