ing stove and filled with
the smell of rank tobacco and steaming clothes. Charnock could not eat
the roughly served food, and for a time sat slack and limp, with the
sweat upon his face, and his arms on the table. Then he got on his feet
awkwardly and set off for Festing's shack.

The rain and cold revived him, but walking was difficult, and when he
reached the shack he fell into a chair. Festing was not in, and Charnock
remembered he had said something about having extra work to do. It was
dark, but the log fire threw out a red light, and by and by Charnock,
glancing round as the shadows receded, thought there was something
unusual on the table. It looked like a bottle, but they kept no liquor
in the shack. Festing was abstemious but Charnock suspected that he had
practised some self-denial for his sake.

He waited until a blaze sprung up, and then his relaxed pose stiffened.
It was a bottle of whisky, better stuff than the railroaders generally
drank, for he knew the label. Moreover, when the light touched the glass
the yellow reflection showed that it was full. He got up and approached
the table, wondering how the liquor came there, until he saw some
writing on the label. Picking up the bottle, he read his own name.

He put it down abruptly and stood with his hand clenched. The veins
swelled on his forehead and the pain nearly left him as he fought with
temptation. It was some weeks since he had tasted liquor, but this was
not all. A drink would give him relief from the gnawing ache and perhaps
a night's sound sleep. If he could get that, he might be well for most
of the next day. But he shrank from the remedy. There was liquor enough
to last some days, but the next bottle would not last as long, and he
knew there would be another. He must resist and conquer his craving now.

He opened the door and picked up the bottle by the neck. With a swing of
his arm he could throw it among the pines; he wanted to hear it smash.
Victory could be won by a quick movement; but afterwards? The touch of
the glass and the way the yellow liquid gleamed in the light fired his
blood. If he was to win an enduring victory, he must fight to a finish.

Leaving the bottle in the light, he moved his chair and sat down close
by, after which he looked at his watch. He would give himself half an
hour. If he could hold out now, he need not be afraid again, because the
odds against him would never be so heavy. The craving was reenforced by
pain