ptain should suddenly become delirious,
and try to throw _him_ overboard or shoot him? Fred determined to get
the captain at once upon the guards--no, into the cabin, where there
would be no sight of water to suggest anything dreadful--and search his
room for pistols. But the captain objected to being moved into the
cabin.

"The boys," said the captain, alluding to the gamblers, "are mighty
sharp in the eye, and like as not they'd see through my little game, and
then where'd my reputation be? Speaking of the boys reminds me of Harry
Genang, that cleaned out that rich Kentucky planter at bluff one night,
and then swore off gambling for life, and gave a good-by supper aboard
the boat. 'Twas just at the time when Prince Imperial Champagne came
out, and the whole supper was made of that splendid stuff. I guess I
must have put away four bottles, and if I'd known how much he'd ordered,
I could have carried away a couple more. I've always been sorry I
didn't."

Fred wondered if there was any subject of conversation which would not
suggest liquor to the captain; he even brought himself to ask if Crayme
had seen the new Methodist Church at Barton since it had been finished.

"Oh, yes," said the captain; "I started to walk Moshier home one night,
after we'd punished a couple of bottles of old Crow whisky at our house,
and he caved in all of a sudden, and I laid him out on the steps of that
very church till I could get a carriage. Those were my last two bottles
of Crow, too; it's too bad the way the good things of this life paddle
off."

The captain raised himself in his berth, sat on the edge thereof, stood
up, stared out of the window, and began to pace his room with his head
down and his hands behind his back. Little by little he raised his head,
drooped his hands, flung himself into a chair, beat the devil's tattoo
on the table, sprang up excitedly, and exclaimed:

"I'm going back on all the good times I ever had."

"You're only getting ready to try a new kind, Sam," said Fred.

"Well, I'm going back on my friends."

"Not on all of them; the dead ones would pat you on the back, if they
got a chance."

"A world without whisky looks infernally dismal to a fellow that isn't
half done living."

"It looks first-rate to a fellow that hasn't got any backdown in him."

"Curse you! I wish I'd made _you_ back down when you first talked
temperance to me."

"Go ahead! Then curse your wife--don't be afraid; you've been doing