down quietly
at a little distance from the card-players, attracting at first but
little attention from them.

Presently, at the close of a game, glasses were ordered for the party,
at the expense of those who had suffered defeat.

"What'll you have, strangers?" inquired a tipsy fellow, with an Indian
complexion and long black hair, staggering toward Ferguson.

"Thank you, sir," said the Scotchman; "but I don't drink."

"Don't drink!" exclaimed the former, in evident surprise. "What sort of
a man, pray, may you be?"

"I am a temperance man," said Ferguson, adding indiscreetly, "and it
would be well for you all if you would shun the vile liquor which is
destroying soul and body."

"---- your impudence!" ejaculated the other, in a rage. "Do you dare to
insult gentlemen like us?"

"I never insult anybody," said the Scotchman calmly. "What I have said
is for your good, and you would admit it if you were sober."

"Do you dare to say I'm drunk?" demanded the man, in a fury.

"Mr. Ferguson," said Tom, in a low voice, "I wouldn't provoke him if I
were you."

But the Scotchman was no coward, and, though generally prudent, he was
too fond of argument to yield the point.

"Of course, you're drunk," he said calmly. "If you will reflect, you
show all the signs of a man that has taken too much liquor. Your face is
flushed, your hand is unsteady, and----"

He was interrupted by a volley of execrations from the man whom he was
coolly describing, and the latter, in a fit of fury, struck the
Scotchman in the face. Had the blow been well directed it would, for
the time, have marred the small share of personal beauty with which
nature had endowed Mr. Ferguson; but it glanced aside and just struck
him on his prominent cheek-bone.

"A ring! a ring!" shouted the men in the corner, jumping to their feet
in excitement. "Let Jim and the Scotchman fight it out."

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Ferguson, "I don't wish to fight with your friend.
He is drunk, as you can see plainly enough. I don't wish to fight with a
drunken man."

"Who says I am drunk?" demanded the champion of whisky. "Let me get at
him."

But his friends were now holding him back. They wanted to see a square
fight, according to rule. It would prove, in their opinion, a pleasant
little excitement.

"I meant no offense," said Ferguson; "I only told the truth."

"You are a ---- liar!" exclaimed the man, known as Jim.

"I do not heed the words of a man in your conditi