of bed at night to argue in your behalf, and I
didn't expect no sich treatment as this. If you want to stab me, why
don't you out with your knife and pop it to me right under the ribs.
Here," he added, turning toward Lyman and smoothing his shirt tight
over his side, "stab me right here and I won't say a word; but, for
the Lord's sake, don't question my honor. Let me tell you something: I
am a poor man and in debt; I need clothes and sometimes I am out of
tobacco, but I wouldn't touch a drop of whisky for money enough to dam
the Mississippi river. That's me, Lyman, and you may wollop it about
in your mouth and chew on it. It is no more than natural that I should
want to join my old friends. Of course we were not actually in the
army, but we would have been soldiers if we hadn't been captured and
disarmed, and we have an affection for the old organization. There
ain't many of us left and it is cruelty to keep us apart. And I can't
go unless Tobithy lets me take the money. It won't require more than
five dollars. Will you assure her that I'll come home sober?"

"I don't think I can do that, Uncle Jasper. Understand, now, I believe
you think you'll keep sober, but the truth of it is you can't. Why, if
you didn't drink, the old fellows wouldn't be your companions."

The "veteran" smoothed his shirt over his side. "Stab me," he said.
"Pop your knife under this rib--this one, right here. It will be a
mercy to me if you do. When a man out-lives his word of honor, it's
time to go and go violently. Pop it."

"Your drinking doesn't amount to much, Uncle Jasper. You don't drink
viciously, but reminiscently. However, it is a crime to take money
from those women--Hold on; I know you do all you can to earn a living;
you work whenever anything comes up, but you haven't earned five
dollars in--"

"I earned the money, but the scoundrel didn't pay me," the old fellow
broke in. "I've got hundreds of dollars owin' to me, but the rascals
laugh at me. I cured old Thompson's sick horse--worked with him all
night, nearly, and he gave me a dollar. Haven't earned five dollars!
the devil! How can a man earn five dollars when a scoundrel pays him
one dollar for fifteen dollars' worth of labor? The shirt ain't very
thick. The knife will go in all right. Pop it." He smoothed his shirt
and closed his eyes as if expecting the death blow.

"You didn't let me get through," said Lyman. "I was going to say that
your drinking did no particular harm. T