e flung himself on the ground opposite to his
companion.

"What a slow-blooded sort of creature you are, Trent!" he said. "Don't
you ever drink, don't you ever take life a little more gaily?"

"Not when I am carrying my life in my hands," Trent answered grimly. "I
get drunk sometimes--when there's nothing on and the blues come--never
at a time like this though."

"It is pleasant to hear," the old man remarked, stretching out his
limbs, "that you do occasionally relax. In your present frame of
mind--you will not be offended I trust--you are just a little heavy as
a companion. Never mind. In a year's time I will be teaching you how to
dine--to drink champagne, to--by the way, Trent, have you ever tasted
champagne?"

"Never," Trent answered gruffly "Don't know that I want to either."

Monty was compassionate. "My young friend," he said, "I would give my
soul to have our future before us, to have your youth and never to have
tasted champagne. Phew! the memory of it is delicious!"

"Why don't you go to bed?" Trent said. "You'll need all your strength
to-morrow!"

Monty waved his hand with serene contempt.

"I am a man of humours, my dear friend," he said, "and to-night my
humour is to talk and to be merry. What is it the philosophers tell
us?--that the sweetest joys of life are the joys of anticipation. Here
we are, then, on the eve of our triumph--let us talk, plan, be happy.
Bah! how thirsty it makes one! Come, Trent, what stake will you have me
set up against that other tumblerful of brandy."

"No stake that you can offer," Trent answered shortly. "That drop of
brandy may stand between us and death. Pluck up your courage, man, and
forget for a bit that there is such a thing as drink."

Monty frowned and looked stealthily across towards the bottle.

"That's all very well, my friend," he said, "but kindly remember that
you are young, and well, and strong. I am old, and an invalid. I need
support. Don't be hard on me, Trent. Say fifty again.

"No, nor fifty hundred," Trent answered shortly. "I don't want your
money. Don't be such a fool, or you'll never live to enjoy it."

Monty shuffled on to his feet, and walked aimlessly about the hut. Once
or twice as he passed the place where the bottle rested, he hesitated;
at last he paused, his eyes lit up, he stretched out his hand
stealthily. But before he could possess himself of it Trent's hand was
upon his collar.

"You poor fool!" he said; "leave it alone can't