that ever in his life before he had known fear.

"Then his colossal optimism asserted itself, and he laughed again.

"'A good joke--whoever put it up,' he said. 'The drinks are on me.
I had a scare for a moment. But, fellows, don't do it again, to
anybody. It's too serious. I tell you I died a thousand deaths in
that moment. I thought of my wife and the kids, and . . . '

"His voice broke, and the half-caste, still throat-brushing, drew
his eyes. He was puzzled and worried.

"'John,' he said, turning toward me.

"His jovial, rotund voice rang in my ears. But I could not answer.
I was swallowing hard at that moment, and besides, I knew my face
didn't look just right.

"'John,' he called again, taking a step nearer.

"He called timidly, and of all nightmares of horrors the most
frightful was to hear timidity in Lyte Gregory's voice.

"'John, John, what does it mean?' he went on, still more timidly.
'It's a joke, isn't it? John, here's my hand. If I were a leper
would I offer you my hand? Am I a leper, John?'

"He held out his hand, and what in high heaven or hell did I care?
He was my friend. I took his hand, though it cut me to the heart to
see the way his face brightened.