s hands on his knees and
his head bound in white, bloodstained. He turned a ghastly face, and
tried to smile. Alec's heart gave way utterly. He knelt at Mr Cupples's
feet, laid his head on his knee, and burst into very unsaxon but most
gracious tears. Mr Cupples laid a small trembling hand on the boy's
head, saying,

"Eh! bantam, bantam!" and could say no more.

"Mr Cupples," sobbed Alec, "forgive me. I'll cut my throat, gin ye
like."

"Ye wad do better to cut the deevil's throat."

"Hoo could I do that? Tell me, and I'll do 't."

"Wi' the broken whisky-bottle, man. That's at the root o' a' the
mischeef. It's no you. It's the drink. And eh! Alec, we micht be richt
happy thegither efter that. I wad mak a scholar o' ye."

"Weel, Mr Cupples, ye hae a richt to demand o' me what ye like; for
henceforth ye hae the pooer o' life or deith ower me. But gin I try to
brak throu the drinkin', I maun haud oot ower frae the smell o' 't; an'
I doobt," added Alec slyly, "ye wadna hae the chance o' makin' muckle
o' a scholar o' me in that case."

And now the dark roots of thought and feeling blossomed into the fair
flower of resolution.

"Bantam," said Mr Cupples solemnly, "I sweir to God, gin ye'll gie ower
the drink and the lave o' yer ill gaits, I'll gie ower the drink as
weel. I hae naething ither to gie ower. But that winna be easy," he
added with a sigh, stretching his hand towards his glass.

From a sudden influx of energy, Alec stretched his hand likewise
towards the same glass, and laying hold on it as Mr Cupples was raising
it to his lips, cried:

"I sweir to God likewise--And noo," he added, leaving his hold of the
glass, "ye daurna drink it."

Mr Cupples threw glass and all into the fire.

"That's my fareweel libation to the infernal Bacchus," he said. "Lat it
gang to swall the low o' Phlegethon. But eh! it's a terrible
undertakin'. It's mair nor Hercules himsel' could hae made onything o'.
Bantam! I hae saicrifeesed mysel' to you. Haud to your pairt, or I
canna haud to mine."

It was indeed a terrible undertaking. I doubt whether either of them
would have had courage for it, had he not been under those same
exciting influences--which, undermining all power of manly action, yet
give for the moment a certain amount of energy to expend. But the
limits are narrow within which, by wasting his capital, a man secures a
supply of pocket-money. And for them the tug of war was to come.

They sat on opposite sides o