go
mad with delight and had won for us. And as their names came up in talk,
we learned how life had gone with those who had been our comrades of ten
years ago. Some, success had lifted to high places; some, failure had
left upon the rocks, and a few lay in their graves.

But as the evening wore on, I began to wish that I had left out the
wines, for the men began to drop an occasional oath, though I had let
them know during the summer that Graeme was not the man he had been. But
Graeme smoked and talked and heeded not, till Rattray swore by that name
most sacred of all ever borne by man. Then Graeme opened upon him in a
cool, slow way--

'What an awful fool a man is, to damn things as you do, Rat. Things are
not damned. It is men who are; and that is too bad to be talked much
about but when a man flings out of his foul mouth the name of Jesus
Christ'--here he lowered his voice--'it's a shame--it's more, it's a
crime.'

There was dead silence, then Rattray replied--

'I suppose you're right enough, it is bad form; but crime is rather
strong, I think.'

'Not if you consider who it is,' said Graeme with emphasis.

'Oh, come now,' broke in Beetles. 'Religion is all right, is a good
thing, and I believe a necessary thing for the race, but no one takes
seriously any longer the Christ myth.'

'What about your mother, Beetles?' put in Wig Martin.

Beetles consigned him to the pit and was silent, for his father was an
Episcopal clergyman, and his mother a saintly woman.

'I fooled with that for some time, Beetles, but it won't do. You can't
build a religion that will take the devil out of a man on a myth. That
won't do the trick. I don't want to argue about it, but I am quite
convinced the myth theory is not reasonable, and besides, it wont work.'

'Will the other work?' asked Rattray, with a sneer.

'Sure!' said Grame; 'I've seen it.'

'Where?' challenged Rattray. 'I haven't seen much of it.'

'Yes, you have, Rattray, you know you have,' said Wig again. But Rattray
ignored him.

'I'll tell you, boys,' said Graeme. 'I want you to know, anyway, why I
believe what I do.'

Then he told them the story of old man Nelson, from the old coast days,
before I knew him, to the end. He told the story well. The stern fight
and the victory of the life, and the self-sacrifice and the pathos of
the death appealed to these men, who loved fight and could understand
sacrifice.

'That's why I believe in Jesus Christ, and that's