m, adding that he
would pay the expense.

Fred accepted the proposition and won the game, though he had never
played before, while Matthew had had a good deal of experience.

Billiards is a fascinating game, and, from the very fact of its
fascination, it is extremely dangerous for boys. It is usually
associated with drinking saloons, where the air is filled with evil
influences and the fumes of rum and tobacco; and, aside from these
degrading surroundings, it is a very expensive game. It is a very common
occurrence for one to find himself two or three dollars short for a
single evening's entertainment of this sort, and this, too, when no
drinking or betting has been done.

Fred, of course, felt elated that he should win the game with an old
player, while Matthew chuckled over his own success; for, in purposely
allowing his opponent to win, and thereby playing on his conceit, he
had scored more points in his own subtle game than he had hoped.

The obstacle that at first appeared to stand in the way of this young
scoundrel's accomplishing his purpose seemed to be well nigh surmounted.
He had carefully managed his victim, and would soon be paid for all his
trouble by the terrible revenge he would enjoy.

There now remained the final act, which he arranged with the bartender,
by paying him a certain sum.

It was agreed that De Vere should bring Fred in for a drink, and that
they would persuade him to take a glass of lager beer, that should
contain a large adulteration of whisky.

Tim Short was taken into the secret with a view to rendering any service
that might be required of him.

When the boys next appeared at the saloon, Matthew, with a pompous air,
said:

"John, give me a glass of lager; I have got sick of drinking ginger ale.
It's nothing but a baby drink, any way. Fred, you'd better try the
lager, too. It's ever so much nicer than that slop. Just try it now, and
if you don't like it you needn't drink it. See how clear it is! I guess
I can beat you at billiards after taking this."

The bartender laughed, and after indorsing all that De Vere had said,
added:

"Folks is got about over drinking ginger ale, nowadays. Lager's the
proper stuff!"

Fred was a good scholar, but there was a little word of two letters that
he had not yet learned how to spell; that is--_no_.

He drank the beer, and his fate was sealed. He was now a tool in
Matthew's hands. On some pretense the young hypocrite excused himself
fro