d worshipped him from a
distance. It took the saloon to bring us together. Even so, our
acquaintance might have been no more than a hand-grip and a word--he was
a laconic old fellow--had it not been for the drinking.

"Have a drink," I said, with promptitude, after the pause which I had
learned good form in drinking dictates. Of course, while we drank our
beer, which I had paid for, it was incumbent on him to listen to me and
to talk to me. And Johnny, like a true host, made the tactful remarks
that enabled us to find mutual topics of conversation. And of course,
having drunk my beer, Captain Nelson must now buy beer in turn. This led
to more talking, and Johnny drifted out of the conversation to wait on
other customers.

The more beer Captain Nelson and I drank, the better we got acquainted.
In me he found an appreciative listener, who, by virtue of book-reading,
knew much about the sea-life he had lived. So he drifted back to his
wild young days, and spun many a rare yarn for me, while we downed beer,
treat by treat, all through a blessed summer afternoon. And it was only
John Barleycorn that made possible that long afternoon with the old
sea-dog.

It was Johnny Heinhold who secretly warned me across the bar that I was
getting pickled and advised me to take small beers. But as long as
Captain Nelson drank large beers, my pride forbade anything else than
large beers. And not until the skipper ordered his first small beer did
I order one for myself. Oh, when we came to a lingering fond farewell, I
was drunk. But I had the satisfaction of seeing Old Scratch as drunk as
I. My youthful modesty scarcely let me dare believe that the hardened
old buccaneer was even more drunk.

And afterwards, from Spider, and Pat, and Clam, and Johnny Heinhold, and
others, came the tips that Old Scratch liked me and had nothing but good
words for the fine lad I was. Which was the more remarkable, because he
was known as a savage, cantankerous old cuss who never liked anybody.
(His very nickname, "Scratch," arose from a Berserker trick of his, in
fighting, of tearing off his opponent's face.) And that I had won his
friendship, all thanks were due to John Barleycorn. I have given the
incident merely as an example of the multitudinous lures and draws and
services by which John Barleycorn wins his followers.

CHAPTER XI

And still there arose in me no desire for alcohol, no chemical demand.
In years and years of he