“And yet you talk of selling it yourself?” Keawe said.

“I have all I wish, and I am growing elderly,” replied the man.  “There is one thing the imp cannot do — he cannot prolong life; and, it would not be fair to conceal from you, there is a drawback to the bottle; for if a man die before he sells it, he must burn in hell forever.”

“To be sure, that is a drawback and no mistake,” cried Keawe.  “I would not meddle with the thing.  I can do without a house, thank God; but there is one thing I could not be doing with one particle, and that is to be damned.”

“Dear me, you must not run away with things,” returned the man.  “All you have to do is to use the power of the imp in moderation, and then sell it to someone else, as I do to you, and finish your life in comfort.”

“Well, I observe two things,” said Keawe.  “All the time you keep sighing like a maid in love, that is one; and, for the other, you sell this bottle very cheap.”

“I have told you already why I sigh,” said the man.  “It is because I fear my health is breaking up; and, as you said yourself, to die and go to the devil is a pity for anyone.  As for why I sell so cheap, I must explain to you there is a peculiarity about the bottle.  Long ago, when the devil brought it first upon earth, it was extremely expensive, and was sold first of all to Prester John for many millions of dollars; but it cannot be sold at all, unless sold at a loss.  If you sell it for as much as you paid for it, back it comes to you again like a homing pigeon.  It follows that the price has kept falling in these centuries, and the bottle is now remarkably cheap.  I bought it myself from one of my great neighbours on this hill, and the price I paid was only ninety dollars.  I could sell it for as high as eighty-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents, but not a penny dearer, or back the thing must come to me.  Now, about this there are two bothers.  First, when you offer a bottle so singular for eighty odd dollars, people suppose you to be jesting.  And second — but there is no hurry about that — and I need not go into it.  Only remember it must be coined money that you sell it for.”

“How am I to know that this is all true?” asked Keawe.

“Some of it you can try at once,” replied the man.  “Give me your fifty dollars, take the bottle, and wish your fifty dollars back into your pocket.  If that does not happen, I pledge you my honour I will cry off the bargain and restore your money.”

“You are not deceiving me?” said Keawe.

The man bound himself with a great oath.

“Well, I will risk that much,” said Keawe, “for that can do no harm.”  And he paid over his money to the man, and the man handed him the bottle.

“Imp of the bottle,” said Keawe, “I want my fifty dollars back.”  And sure enough he had scarce said the word before his pocket was as heavy as ever.

“To be sure this is a wonderful bottle,” said Keawe.