They
were corked and in wooden cases, which protected them perfectly.
By the light of the station lamps and the aid of a pocket-lens,
Kennedy examined them on the outside and satisfied himself that
after being replaced in the wooden cases the bottles themselves
had not been handled.
"Will you let me borrow some of these bottles to-night" he asked
the agent. "I'll give you my word that they will be returned
safely to-morrow. If necessary, I'll get an order for them."
The station-agent reluctantly yielded; especially as a small
green banknote figured in the transaction. Craig and I tenderly
lifted the big bottles in their cases into our trap and drove
back to our rooms in the hotel. It quite excited the hangers-on
to see us drive up with a lot of empty five-gallon bottles and
carry them up-stairs, but I had long ago given up having any fear
of public opinion in carrying out anything Craig wanted.
In our room we worked far into the night. Craig carefully swabbed
out the bottom and sides of each bottle by inserting a little
piece of cotton on the end of a long wire. Then he squeezed the
water out of the cotton swab on small glass slides coated with
agar-agar, or Japanese seaweed, a medium in which germ-cultures
multiply rapidly. He put the slides away in a little oven with an
alcohol-lamp which he had brought along, leaving them to remain
overnight at blood heat.
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