nce for good with the elder Bylow. And Lowe seemed to
sense the thought, for he said, "If you take just a taste with these men
now, all will come to hear you preach next Sunday. Won't you, boys?" And
there was a grunt of assent. "All right; it's a bargain."

Jim was actually weighing the proposition--his old craving for drink was
not by any means eradicated. The sight of the liquor and the smell
roused an appetite that only an iron will had subdued. As he stood
uncertain, debating, Lowe said, "Hold on; we're a glass short. Never
mind, I'll find one"; and he hastened back into the lean-to kitchen and
returned with a glass, which was partly concealed by his hand till it
was filled with whiskey. Then he said, "If it was 'pizen juice' I
wouldn't let any one touch it; but this is the simple clear whiskey, as
you can prove for yourself. I wish we could send this to the hospital."

He offered it to Hartigan, who smelled it. Then Lowe said, "Well, here's
to the empty keg."

The seductive liquor was potent in his nostrils, even there it had
stimulation; and Hartigan, acting on a sudden impulse, drained the
glass, as the others drank in silence.

There said Lowe, "You see it is the mildest of the mild; it wouldn't
hurt a child." And he prattled away of truth and soberness, so that the
potion should have ample freedom for its work; till the planned and
subtle mixture should have time to dethrone Hartigan's reason, blind his
spirit, and unhinge his will. The ancient fury in his hot young blood
was all too ready to be aroused. Without a word, Lowe filled the glass
again and Jim, no longer his best self, but dazed and reckless, drank
with all the rest; then soon threw all restraint aside; and in the
bacchanalian orgy that followed fast and filled the night, he was the
stable-yard rowdy once again--loud and leading--but here let the curtain
fall--draw down the thickest, blackest veil.

CHAPTER XIX

The Day of Reckoning

The sun was high next day when the door of Pat Bylow's abode was opened,
and a man entered. The scene that met his eyes is better undescribed,
but to him it gave no shock. He came expecting to see it. In his hand he
carried a tin pail. There were men and women lying about the floor. He
stepped over them toward a tall form in soiled black clothes and knelt
beside it. Pouring some water on a cloth he laid it on the pale
forehead. The prostrate man opened his eyes and groaned.

"Mr. Hartigan," said the ot