and soon they were speeding out to that road house mentioned earlier in
the evening.

Buddy drove, with Miss Montague by his side, the while Gray sat alone
in the back seat of the car quietly objurgating the follies of youth
and mournfully estimating his chances of surviving the night. Frankly,
those chances appeared pretty slim, for Buddy drove with a
death-defying carelessness. By the time they had arrived at their
destination, Gray's respect for the girl had increased; she had nerves
of steel.

The resort was run on rather liberal principles; a number of flushed
and noisy couples were dancing to the music of a colored orchestra. It
was a "hip-pocket" crowd, and while there was no public drinking, the
high-pitched volubility of the merrymakers was plainly of alcoholic
origin. Gray realized that he was in for an ordeal, for he had become
too well known to escape notice. Consternation filled him, therefore,
at thought of the effect his presence here might have. But the music
went straight to Buddy's feet; syncopation intoxicated him much as the
throbbing of midnight drums and the pounding of tom-toms mesmerizes a
voodoo worshiper, and he whirled Miss Montague away in his arms without
so much as an apology to his other guest.

There was nothing conservative about Buddy's dancing. He embellished
his steps with capricious figures, and when he led his partner back to
the table where he had left Gray, like a sailor marooned upon a thirsty
atoll, he was red faced and perspiring; his enthusiasm was boiling
over. "Dawg-_gone!_" he cried. "Now, if we had something wet, eh? These
pants is cut purpose for a brace of form-fittin' flasks, but I left 'em
in the room on account of you not drinkin', Mr. Gray."

"Miss Montague," the elder man exclaimed, "I am not a kill-joy and I
hastily resent Buddy's accusation. I have pursued folly as far as any
man of my years."

"I bet him that you were a good fellow," the girl said, with a smile.

"Exactly! Abstinence comes as much from old age as from principle, and
I am in my very prime. With all vigor I defend myself against the
odious charge of virtuousness. Dyspepsia alone accounts for it."

"You don't object to drinking?"

"A wiser man than I has said, 'There are many things which we can
afford to forget which it is yet well to learn.' I have had my day. May
I claim the next dance?"

In spite of the fact that Ozark Briskow was compelled to sit out every
alternate dance in a dist