He flung his pick out of the trench, climbed out and set off at a dogtrot for his shop. A little rummaging turned up a hypo and there was a plastic container of salt in the kitchen.
Back at his dig, he chipped for another half hour to expose the juncture of lid and body. The hinges were hopeless; he smashed them off.
Hawkins extended the telescopic handle of the pick for the best leverage, fitted its point into a deep pit, set its built-in fulcrum, and heaved. Five more heaves and he could see, inside the vault, what looked like a dusty marble statue. Ten more and he could see that it was the naked body of Honest John Barlow, Evanston real estate dealer, uncorrupted by time.
The potter found the apex of the trigeminal nerve with his needle's point and gave him 60 cc.
In an hour Barlow's chest began to pump.
In another hour, he rasped, "Did it work?"
"Did it!" muttered Hawkins.
Barlow opened his eyes and stirred, looked down, and turned his hands before his eyes.

License information: nan
MPAA: PG
Go to source: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51233/51233-h/51233-h.htm