Afire with the showman’s passion and at the same time agood deal disconcerted by the failure of his first effort， fathernow took the bottles containing the poultry monstrosities downfrom their place on the shelf and began to show them to hisvisitor. “How would you like to have seven legs and two headslike this fellow？” he asked， exhibiting the most remarkableof his treasures. A cheerful smile played over his face. Hereached over the counter and tried to slap Joe Kane on theshoulder as he had seen men do in Ben Head’s saloon whenhe was a young farm-hand and drove to town on Saturdayevenings. His visitor was made a little ill by the sight of thebody of the terribly deformed bird floating in the alcohol inthe bottle and got up to go. Coming from behind the counterfather took hold of the young man’s arm and led him back tohis seat. He grew a little angry and for a moment had to turnhis face away and force himself to smile. Then he put thebottles back on the shelf. In an outburst of generosity he fairlycompelled Joe Kane to have a fresh cup of coffee and anothercigar at his expense. Then he took a pan and began filling itwith vinegar， taken from a jug that sat beneath the counter， hedeclared himself about to do a new trick. “I will heat this egg inthis pan of vinegar，” he said. “Then I will put it through the neckof a bottle without breaking the shell. When the egg is inside thebottle it will resume its normal shape and the shell will becomehard again. Then I will give the bottle with the egg in it to you.
You can take it about with you wherever you go. People willwant to know how you got the egg in the bottle. Don’t tell them.
Keep them guessing. That is the way to have fun with this trick.”
Father grinned and winked at his visitor. Joe Kane decidedthat the man who confronted him was mildly insane butharmless. He drank the cup of coffee that had been given himand began to read his paper again. When the egg had beenheated in vinegar father carried it on a spoon to the counterand going into a back room got an empty bottle. He was angrybecause his visitor did not watch him as he began to do histrick， but nevertheless went cheerfully to work. For a longtime he struggled， trying to get the egg to go through the neckof the bottle. He put the pan of vinegar back on the stove，intending to reheat the egg， then picked it up and burned hisfingers. After a second bath in the hot vinegar the shell of theegg had been softened a little but not enough for his purpose.
He worked and worked and a spirit of desperate determinationtook possession of him. When he thought that at last the trickwas about to be consummated the delayed train came in atthe station and Joe Kane started to go nonchalantly out at thedoor. Father made a last desperate effort to conquer the eggand make it do the thing that would establish his reputationas one who knew how to entertain guests who came into hisrestaurant. He worried the egg. He attempted to be somewhatrough with it. He swore and the sweat stood out on hisforehead. The egg broke under his hand. When the contentsspurted over his clothes， Joe Kane， who had stopped at thedoor， turned and laughed.
A roar of anger rose from my father’s throat. He dancedand shouted a string of inarticulate words. Grabbing anotheregg from the basket on the counter， he threw it， just missingthe head of the young man as he dodged through the door andescaped.
Father came upstairs to mother and me with an egg in hishand. I do not know what he intended to do. I imagine he hadsome idea of destroying it， of destroying all eggs， and that heintended to let mother and me see him begin. When， however，he got into the presence of mother something happened to him.
He laid the egg gently on the table and dropped to his kneesby the bed as I have already explained. He later decided toclose the restaurant for the night and to come upstairs and getinto bed. When he did so he blew out the light and after muchmuttered conversation both he and mother went to sleep. Isuppose I went to sleep also， but my sleep was troubled.
I awoke at dawn and for a long time looked at the egg thatlay on the table. I wondered why eggs had to be and why fromthe egg came the hen who again laid the egg. The question gotinto my blood. It has stayed there， I imagine， because I am theson of my father. At any rate， the problem remains unsolved inmy mind. And that， I conclude， is but another evidence of thecomplete and final triumph of the egg—at least as far as myfamily is concerned.