a second decanter, and sank down once more with a shriek.

"I'll have a drink on that!" he screamed; and I let him take a full
glass of spirits, for I wanted to secure the Derringer. The drink
appeared to paralyse him, and I slipped down to the landlord's room. The
worthy man took things very coolly; none of his trade ever like to see a
man drunk, but they become hardened to it in time, and talk about
delirium tremens as if it were measles. Here is the dialogue.

"Bob's queer."

"I thought so. He's had 'em once before. He must be careful, but you
can't stop him."

"I must have help. I could drown myself when I think that I've perhaps
encouraged him."

"Don't you worry yourself. He'd have been a million times worse if you'd
not been about. He sits with the watchmen and all sorts of tow-rags
then."

"We must get him home somehow."

The landlord fairly shouted: "Home! anything but that! Not that I want
to keep him, but we must have him right first. There's his mother, what
could she do?" Then, dropping his voice, the shrewd fellow said, "You
see, it would nearly pay me to be without his custom, for I'm in the old
lady's hands. Fact is, they've engaged him to a swell girl, and she's
awful spoons on him, for there ain't nobody so nice and hearty as he is
when he's square. He's fond of her, too, but she wants to _reclaim_ him,