t, I imagined I could jump over the counter. I ached to
fight some one. Then all at once came the thought of Berna. It came with
tragical suddenness, with poignant force. Intensely it smote me as never
before. I could have burst into maudlin tears.

"What's the matter, Slim?" asked a mouldy mannikin, affectionately
hanging on to my arm.

Disgustedly I looked at him.

"Take your filthy paws off me," I said.

His jaw dropped and he stared at me. Then, before he could draw on his
fund of profanity, I burst through the throng and made for the door.

I was drunk, deplorably drunk, and I was bound for the Tivoli.

CHAPTER III

I wish it to be understood that I make no excuses for myself at this
particular stage of my chronicle. I am only conscious of a desire to
tell the truth. Many of the stronger-minded will no doubt condemn me;
many of those inclined to a rigid system of morality will be disgusted
with me; but, however it may be, I will write plainly and without
reserve.

When I reeled out of the Grubstake Saloon I was in a peculiar state of
exaltation. No longer was I conscious of the rasping cold, and it seemed
to me I could have couched me in the deep snow as cosily as in a bed of
down. Surpassingly brilliant were the lights. They seemed to convey to
me a portentous wink. They twinkled with jovial cheer. What a desirable
place the world was, after all!

With an ebullient sense of eloquence, of extravagant oratory, I longed
for a sympathetic ear. An altruistic emotion pervaded me. Who would
suspect, thought I, as I walked a little too circumspectly amid the
throng, that my heart was aglow, that I was tensing my muscles in the
pride of their fitness, that my brain was a bewildering kaleidoscope of
thoughts and images?

Gramophones were braying in every conceivable key. Brazen women were
leering at me. Potbellied men regarded me furtively. Alluringly the
gambling-dens and dancing-dives invited me. The town was a giant spider
drawing in its prey, and I was the prey, it seemed. Others there were in
plenty, men with the eager, wistful eyes; but who was there so eager and
wistful as I? And I didn't care any more. Strike up the music! On with
the dance! Only one life have we to live. Ah! there was the Tivoli.

To the right as I entered was a palatial bar set off with burnished
brass, bevelled mirrors and glittering, vari-coloured pyramids of costly
liqueurs. Up to the bar men were bellying, and the bartende