h. From time to time, he laughed boisterously, and his
laugh had an echo of hell in it.

He and his followers appeared to be enjoying some good joke. But
whenever he spoke every one else became silent. Each coarse jest he
mouthed was laughed at long and uproariously. He had a hold on his
fellows. Even I was fascinated; but it was by the great similarity of
some of the mannerisms of this uncouth man to those I had observed in
the lower brute creation.

My attention was withdrawn from him, however, by the sound of the
rattling of tin cans in another corner which was partly partitioned
from the main bar-room. I followed the new sound.

A tattered individual was seated there, his feet among a cluster of
pots and pans all strung together. His head was in his hands and his
red-bearded face was a study of dejection and misery.

There was something strangely familiar in the appearance of the man.

Suddenly I remembered, and I laughed.

I went over and sat down opposite him, setting my golf clubs by my
side. He ignored my arriving. That same old trick of his!

"Donald,--Donald Robertson!" I exclaimed, laughing again.

Still he did not look across.

Suddenly he spoke, and in a voice that knew neither hope nor gladness.

"Ye laugh,--ye name me by my Christian name,--but ye don't say,
'Donald, will ye taste?'"

I leaned over and pulled his hands away from his head. He flopped
forward, then glared at me. His eyes opened wide.

"It's,--it's you,--is it? The second son come to me in my hour o'
trial."

"Why! Donald,--what's the trouble?" I asked.

"Trouble,--ye may well say trouble. Have ye mind o' the sixpence ye
gied me on the roadside this mornin'."

"Yes!"

"For thirteen long, unlucky hours I saved that six-pence against my
time o' need. I tied it in the tail o' my sark for safety. I came in
here an hour ago. I ordered a glass o' whisky and a tumbler o' beer.
I sat doon here for a while wi' them both before me, enjoying the sight
o' them and indulgin' in the heavenly joy o' anteecipation. Then I
drank the speerits and was just settlin' doon to the beer,--tryin' to
make it spin oot as long as I could; for, ye ken, it's comfortable in
here,--when an emissary o' the deevil, wi' hands like shovels and a
leer in his e'e, came in and picked up the tumbler frae under my very
nose and swallowed the balance o' your six-pence before I could say
squeak."

I laughed at Donald's rueful countenance and hi