k before?"

The figure bowed, and kept its head lowered until he had moved on.

"Drunk or sober, I'm shtill divine," he said proudly. And he began to
sing, loudly and impressively, his voice orchestral in his own ears
within the confines of the helmet. "Ould Lang Shyne, she ain't what she
ushed to be, ain't what she ushed to be--" The words came easily, and as
it seemed, naturally to his lips.

After awhile, however, he tired of them. After awhile he found that his
legs had tired of them. He sat down with a thump under a spiky tree and
said solemnly, "Never felt so good in my life. Never felt so happy--it's
a lie. I don't feel good."

He didn't, not any more. He felt sick to his stomach. A touch of sober
thought had corroded the happiness of his intoxication, and he was sick
and afraid. Today their god was a hero, today they would forgive him
everything. But did they actually _prefer_ a drunken god? No.
Drunkenness made a god human, all too human. A drunken god was a weak
god, and his hold on his worshippers was their belief in his strength.
As he valued his life, he must get drunk no more.

"Ain't gonna get drunk no more, no more," he sang sadly and solemnly to
himself, and finally he fell asleep.

* * * * *

He awoke with a hangover and a memory. He was not one of those men who
when sober forget all they have done when drunk. He remembered
everything. And he knew that he must put drunkenness away from him.

That morning they brought him only food and flowers. But at the evening
ceremony they presented him once more with a jug of liquor as an
additional reward for his destruction of the deadly beast. For the first
time, Bradley took an active part in the ceremony. He held up the jug
and said in grave tones, "In the name of Carrie Nation, I renounce thee
and all thy works."

Then he poured out the liquor and smashed the jug on the ground.

After that, the smashing of the jug was part of the ceremony of
worshipping him. It left him unhappy at first, but sober. After awhile,
the unhappiness disappeared, but the soberness remained. From now on, he
would act as a god should act.

The natives were not stupid, he saw that very clearly. The first jugs
they had offered him had been beautiful objects, of excellent
workmanship. But when they perceived that the only use he had for them
was to break them, the quality deteriorated rapidly. Now the jugs they
brought him were crude things in