Slack."

The gossip proceeded, the chips rattled, the balls clicked, the smoke
mounted, the liquors gurgled, and the regular Club life proceeded.

The friend of his appointment now joined him.

"By ----! You look as white as that foam there. You need a nerve
restorer. You haven't been idiot enough to buck the tiger again, have
you? What will you take?"

"No," said Harland slowly. "I have not gambled." He shook his head with
a strange expression. He did not understand. The Club seemed different
to him. It was not as entrancing or as necessary as usual. The odor of
stale liquor and of staler tobacco nauseated him. Still, it did not
occur to him that this was an unusual state of mind for him to be in.

The attendant placed the chased tray upon the table. His friend took the
decanter from the boy and poured out the brown liquid into the delicate
glasses. He then offered one to Harland and held up his own in token of
courtesy.

"Well, here's to luck," he said, and nodded to Harland. Harland nodded
in return. His nerves twitched him. What was this new sensation of
repugnance? He lifted his glass higher to his mouth. He tried to put it
to his lips. It would not go. He tried again. His arm refused him
service. But the fumes of this familiar liquor mounted to his nostrils,
which dilated with horror. What was this terrible thing which he was
asked to drink? Never had he felt such physical repulsion. A shudder of
disgust shook him. With a curse he dashed the glass to the floor, and
glared suspiciously upon his companion.

"How dare you ask me to drink this stuff?" His voice rang with passion.
"I loathe it! I cannot stand it. Let me go. This is an infernal den, and
I will get out!"

The men around jumped up and held him. They thought that D. T. had come
at last.

"Somebody send for the nearest expert," said his nearest friend.

This inebriate's first resistance to his dipsomania was interpreted
darkly, with sundry shrugs and winks and gestures.

"It is too devilish bad," said his companion, "but I knew it would
happen some day."

They called a cab and put him in and sent him home. But he gave no
further evidence of insanity. His case became a seven days' gossip and
warning behind the bulging windows of the great Club.

Harland Slack went straightway to Colorado, and came back a man. He went
into law, and succeeded. It is well known that he does not drink. The
committee elected a new heir to damnation in Harland's