h' liquor didn't
look good enough fer um. Oi'll thry um agin."

Bill threw off the blankets and sat up on the edge of the bunk.

"That grub smells good, Daddy," he sniffed.

"Aye, an 'twill tashte good, too, av ye fly at ut befure ut gits cold.
Ye've had shleep enough fer two min--Captain Fronte'd git along fer
wakes at a toime on foorty winks in th' saddle."

"I am afraid I will have a hard time living up to Captain Fronte's
standard," laughed Bill, as he adjusted his bandages.

"Well, thin, Oi'll tell yez th' fir-rst thing Captain Fronte'd done
phwin his two feet hit th' flure: he'd roar fer a dhrink av good
liquor. An' thin he'd ate a dozen or two av thim pork-chops, an' wash
'em down wid a gallon av black coffee--an' he'd be roight fer
an-nything from a carouse wid th' brown dancin' Nautch gir-rls, to a
brush in th' hills wid their fightin' brown brothers.

"Th' liquor's waitin'--ut moightn't be as good as ye're used, but Oi've
seen Captain Fronte himself shmack his lips over worse. An' as fer th'
tin cup--he'd dhrink from a batthered tomaty can or a lady's shlipper,
an' rasp th' dhregs from his t'roat wid a cur-rse or a song, as besht
fitted th' toime or th' place he was in."

The old man began to pour out the liquor: "Say phwin," he cried, "an'
Oi've yit to see th' McKim 'twud hurry th' wor-rd."

Bill crossed to the old man, who, propped against the table, watched
the contents of the bottle gurgle and splash into the huge tin cup, and
laid a hand upon his arm.

"That will do, Daddy," he said.

The man ceased to pour and peered inquisitively into the cup. "'Taint
half full yit!" he protested, passing it to Bill, who set it before him
upon the table, where the rich fumes reached his nostrils as he spoke:

"This whisky," he began, "smells good--plenty good enough for any man.
But, you don't seem to understand. I don't drink whisky--good whisky,
or bad whisky, or old whisky, or new whisky, or red, white, and blue
whisky--or any other kind of booze.

"I have drunk it--bottles of it--kegs of it--barrels of it, I suppose,
for I played the game from Harlem to the Battery. And then I quit."

"Ye ain't tellin' me ye're timperence?" The old man inquired with
concern as he would have inquired after an ailment.

"No; that is, if you mean am I one of those who would vote the world
sober by prohibiting the sale of liquor. It is a personal question
which every man must meet squarely--for himself--not for his neigh