eep there. "O God!" he
cried, "if the Bishop would only come back!" The Bishop had gone out
with Dr. Bruce somewhere, and there was no one about that he knew.
He swept in the corner for two or three minutes. His face was drawn
with the agony of his conflict. Gradually he edged out again towards
the steps and began to go down them. He looked towards the sidewalk
and saw that he had left one step unswept. The sight seemed to give
him a reasonable excuse for going down there to finish his sweeping.

He was on the sidewalk now, sweeping the last step, with his face
towards the Settlement and his back turned partly on the saloon
across the alley. He swept the step a dozen times. The sweat rolled
over his face and dropped down at his feet. By degrees he felt that
he was drawn over towards that end of the step nearest the saloon.
He could smell the beer and rum now as the fumes rose around him. It
was like the infernal sulphur of the lowest hell, and yet it dragged
him as by a giant's hand nearer its source.

He was down in the middle of the sidewalk now, still sweeping. He
cleared the space in front of the Settlement and even went out into
the gutter and swept that. He took off his hat and rubbed his sleeve
over his face. His lips were pallid and his teeth chattered. He
trembled all over like a palsied man and staggered back and forth as
if he was already drunk. His soul shook within him.

He had crossed over the little piece of stone flagging that measured
the width of the alley, and now he stood in front of the saloon,
looking at the sign, and staring into the window at the pile of
whiskey and beer bottles arranged in a great pyramid inside. He
moistened his lips with his tongue and took a step forward, looking
around him stealthily. The door suddenly opened again and someone
came out. Again the hot, penetrating smell of liquor swept out into
the cold air, and he took another step towards the saloon door which
had shut behind the customer. As he laid his fingers on the door
handle, a tall figure came around the corner. It was the Bishop.

He seized Burns by the arm and dragged him back upon the sidewalk.
The frenzied man, now mad for a drink, shrieked out a curse and
struck at his friend savagely. It is doubtful if he really knew at
first who was snatching him away from his ruin. The blow fell upon
the Bishop's face and cut a gash in his cheek. He never uttered a
word. But over his face a look of majestic sorrow swept.