’Thatknocksmeout，Ireckon，’hemuttered，inadisappointedtone;’Iain’tuptothatgrade.’AndasCraigdescribedtheheroismcalledfor，themagnificenceofthefight，theworthofit，andtheoutcomeofitall，Abegroundout：I’llbeblankedifI
wouldn’tliketotakeahand，butIguessI’mnotinit.’Craigfinishedbysaying——
’Iwanttoputthisquitefairly.Itisnotanyleagueofmine;
you’renotjoiningmycompany;itisnoeasybusiness，anditisforyourwholelife.Whatdoyousay？DoIputitfairly？Whatdoyousay，Nelson？’
Nelsonroseslowly，andwithdifficultybegan——
’Imaybeallwrong，butyoumadeiteasierforme，Mr.Craig.YousaidHewouldseemethrough，orIshouldneverhaveriskedit.
PerhapsIamwrong，’andtheoldmanlookedtroubled.Craigsprangup.
’No！no！ThankGod，no！HewillseeeverymanthroughwhowilltrusthislifetoHim.Everyman，nomatterhowtoughheis，nomatterhowbroken.’
ThenNelsonstraightenedhimselfupandsaid——
’Well，sir！Ibelievealotofthemenwouldgoinforthisiftheyweredeadsuretheywouldgetthrough.’
’Getthrough！’saidCraig;’neverafearofit.Itisahardfight，alongfight，agloriousfight，’throwinguphishead，buteverymanwhosquarelytrustsHim，andtakesHimasLordandMaster，comesoutvictor！’
’Bon！’saidBaptiste’Dasme.YoutinkHe’stakemeindatfight，M’sieuCraig，heh？’Hiseyeswereblazing.
’Youmeanit？’askedCraigalmoststernly.
’Yes！bygar！’saidthelittleFrenchmaneagerly.
’HearwhatHesays，then’;andCraig，turningovertheleavesofhisTestament，readsolemnlythewords，’Swearnotatall.’
’Non！Forsure！DenIstophim，’repliedBaptisteearnestly;andCraigwrotehisnamedown.
PoorAbelookedamazedanddistressed，roseslowly，andsaying，’Thatjarsmywhiskyjug，’passedout.Therewasaslightmovementneartheorgan，andglancingupIsawMrs.Mavorputherfacehastilyinherhands.Themen’sfaceswereanxiousandtroubled，andNelsonsaidinavoicethatbroke——
’Tellthemwhatyoutoldme，sir.’ButCraigwastroubledtoo，andreplied，’Youtellthem，Nelson！’andNelsontoldthementhestoryofhowhebeganjustfiveweeksago.Theoldman’svoicesteadiedashewenton，andhegreweagerashetoldhowhehadbeenhelped，andhowtheworldwasalldifferent，andhisheartseemednew.HespokeofhisFriendasifHeweresomeonethatcouldbeseenoutatcamp，thatheknewwell，andmeteveryday.
Butashetriedtosayhowdeeplyheregrettedthathehadnotknownallthisyearsbefore，theold，hardfacebegantoquiver，andthesteadyvoicewavered.Thenhepulledhimselftogether，andsaid——
’IbegintofeelsureHe’llpullmethrough——me！thehardestmaninthemountains！Sodon’tyoufear，boys.He’sallright.’
Thenthemengaveintheirnames，onebyone.WhenitcametoGeordie’sturn，hegavehisname——
’GeorgeCrawford，fraethepairisho’Kilsyth，Scotland，an’ye’lljuistpitdoonthelad’sname，MaisterCraig;he’saweebitfashedwi’thediscoorse，buthehastherooto’themaitterinhim，I
doot.’AndsoBillyBreen’snamewentdown.
Whenthemeetingwasover，thirty—eightnamesstooduponthecommunionrolloftheBlackRockPresbyterianChurch;anditwilleverbeoneoftheregretsofmylifethatneitherGraeme’snamenormyownappearedonthatroll.Andtwodaysafter，whenthecupwentroundonthatfirstCommunionSabbath，fromNelsontoSandy，andfromSandytoBaptiste，andsoondownthelinetoBillyBreenandMrs.Mavor，andthentoAbe，thedriver，whomshehadbyherownmysticpowerliftedintohopeandfaith，Ifeltalltheshameandpainofatraitor;andIbelieve，inmyheartthatthefireofthatpainandshameburnedsomethingoftheselfishcowardiceoutofme，andthatitisburningstill.
Thelastwordsoftheminister，intheshortaddressafterthetablehadbeenserved，werelow，andsweet，andtender，buttheywerewordsofhighcourage;andbeforehehadspokenthemall，themenwerelisteningwithshiningeyes，andwhentheyrosetosingtheclosinghymntheystoodstraightandstifflikesoldiersonparade.
AndIwishedmorethaneverIwereoneofthem.
CHAPTERVIII
THEBREAKINGOFTHELEAGUE
Thereisnodoubtinmymindthatnaturedesignedmeforagreatpainter.Arailwaydirectorinterferedwiththatdesignofnature，ashehaswithmanyanotherofhers，andbythetransmissionofanorderformountainpiecesbythedozen，togetherwithachequesolargethatIfearedtherewassomemistake，hedeterminedmetobeanillustratoranddesignerforrailwayandlikepublications.I
donotlikethesepeopleordering’bythedozen.’Whyshouldtheynotconsideranartist’sfinerfeelings？Perhapstheycannotunderstandthem;buttheyunderstandmypictures，andIunderstandtheircheques，andtherewearequits.ButsoitcamethatI
remainedinBlackRocklongenoughtowitnessthebreakingoftheLeague.
Lookingbackupontheeventsofthatnightfromthemidstofgentleanddecentsurroundings，theynowseemstrangelyunreal，buttomethentheyappearedonlynatural.
ItwastheGoodFridayballthatwreckedtheLeague.ForthefactthatthepromotersoftheballdeterminedthatitshouldbeaballratherthanadancewastakenbytheLeaguemenasaconcessiontothenewpublicopinioninfavourofrespectabilitycreatedbytheLeague.Andwhenthemanager’spatronagehadbeensecured（theyfailedtogetMrs.Mavor’s），anditwasfurtherannouncedthat，thoughheldintheBlackRockHotelballroom——indeed，therewasnootherplace——refreshmentssuitedtothepeculiartastesofLeaguemenwouldbeprovided，itwasfelttobealmostanecessitythattheLeagueshouldapprove，shouldindeedwelcome，thisconcessiontothepublicopinioninfavourofrespectabilitycreatedbytheLeague.
Therewereextrememenonbothsides，ofcourse.’Idaho’Jack，professionalgambler，forinstance，franklyconsideredthatthewholetownwasgoingtounmentionabledepthsofpropriety.TheorganisationoftheLeaguewasregardedbyhim，andbymanyothers，asasadretrogradetowardsthebondageoftheancientanddyingEast;andthathecouldnotgetdrunkwhenandwherehepleased，’Idaho，’ashewascalled，regardedasapersonalgrievance.
ButIdahowasneverenamouredofthesocialwaysofBlackRock.Hewasshockedanddisgustedwhenhediscoveredthata’gun’wasdecreedbyBritishlawtobeanunnecessaryadornmentofacard—
table.Themannerofhisdiscoverymusthavebeeninterestingtobehold.
ItissaidthatIdahowasindustriouslypursuinghisavocationinSlavin’s，withhis’gun’lyinguponthecard—tableconvenienttohishand，wheninwalkedpolicemanJackson，herMajesty’ssolerepresentativeintheBlackRockdistrict.Jackson，’Stonewall’
Jackson，or’Stonewall，’ashewascalledforobviousreasons，afterwatchingthegameforafewmoments，gentlytappedthepistolandaskedwhatheusedthisfor.
’I’llshowyouintwoholyminutesifyoudon’tlightout，’saidIdaho，hardlylookingup，butveryangrily，fortheluckwasagainsthim.ButJacksontappeduponthetableandsaidsweetly——
’You’reastrangerhere.Yououghttogetaguide—bookandpostyourself.Now，theboysknowIdon’tinterferewithaninnocentlittlegame，butthereisaregulationagainstplayingitwithguns;so，’headdedevenmoresweetly，butfasteningIdahowithalookfromhissteel—greyeyes，’I’lljusttakechargeofthis，’
pickinguptherevolver;’itmightgooff.’
Idaho’srage，greatasitwas，wasquiteswallowedupinhisamazeddisgustatthestateofsocietythatwouldpermitsuchanoutrageuponpersonalliberty.Hewasquiteunabletoplayanymorethatevening，andittookseveraldrinksallroundtorestorehimtoarticulatespeech.TherestofthenightwasspentinretailingforhisinstructionstoriesofthewaysofStonewallJackson.
Idahoboughtanew’gun，’butheworeit’inhisclothes，’anduseditchieflyinthepastimeofshootingoutthelightsorinpickingofftheheelsfromtheboys’bootswhileastagdancewasinprogressinSlavin’s.ButinStonewall’spresenceIdahowasamostcorrectcitizen.Stonewallhecouldunderstandandappreciate.Hewassixfeetthree，andhadaneyeofunpleasantpenetration.Butthisnewfeelinginthecommunityforrespectabilityhecouldneitherunderstandnorendure.TheLeaguebecametheobjectofhisindignantaversion，andtheLeaguemenofhiscontempt.Hehadmanysympathisers，andfrequentweretheassaultsuponthenewly—
bornsobrietyofBillyBreenandothersoftheLeague.ButGeordie’swatchfulcareandMrs.Mavor’ssteadyinfluence，togetherwiththeloyalco—operationoftheLeaguemen，keptBillysafesofar.Nixon，too，wasamarkedman.ItmaybethathecarriedhimselfwithunnecessaryjauntinesstowardSlavinandIdaho，salutingtheformerwith，’Awfuldryweather！eh，Slavin？’andthelatterwith，’Hello，oldsport！how’stimes？’causingthemtosweardeeply;and，asitturnedout，todomorethanswear.
Butonthewholetheanti—Leaguemenwereinfavourofarespectableball，andmostoftheLeaguemendeterminedtoshowtheirappreciationoftheconcessionofthecommitteetotheprinciplesoftheLeagueintheimportantmatterofrefreshmentsbyattendinginforce.
Nixonwouldnotgo.Howeverjauntilyhemighttalk，hecouldnottrusthimself，ashesaid，wherewhiskywasflowing，foritgotintohisnose’likeafish—hookintoasalmon.’HewasfromNovaScotia.Forlikereason，VernonWinton，theyoungOxfordfellow，wouldnotgo.Whentheychaffed，hislipsgrewalittlethinner，andthecolourdeepenedinhishandsomeface，buthewentonhisway.Geordiedespisedthe’halehypothick’asa’daftploy，’andthespendingoffivedollarsuponaticketheconsidereda’sinfu’wasteo’guidsiller’;andhewarnedBillyagainst’coontenancin’onysicredeeklusnonsense.’
ButnooneexpectedBillytogo;althoughthelasttwomonthshehaddonewondersforhispersonalappearance，andforhispositioninthesocialscaleaswell.Theyallknewwhatafighthewasmaking，andesteemedhimaccordingly.HowwellIrememberthepleasedprideinhisfacewhenhetoldmeintheafternoonofthecommittee’surgentrequestthatheshouldjointheorchestrawithhis’cello！Itwasnotsimplythathis’cellowashisjoyandpride，buthefeltittobearecognitionofhisreturntorespectability.
Ihaveoftenwonderedhowthingscombineattimestoaman’sdestruction.
HadMr.CraignotbeenawayattheLandingthatweek，hadGeordienotbeenonthenight—shift，hadMrs.Mavornotbeensooccupiedwiththecareofhersickchild，itmaybeBillymighthavebeensavedhisfall.
TheanticipationoftheballstirredBlackRockandthecampswithathrillofexpectantdelight.Nowadays，whenIfindmyselfforcedtoleavemyquietsmokeinmystudioafterdinneratthecallofsomesocialengagementwhichIhavefailedtoelude，Igroanatmyhardlot，andIwonderasIlookbackandrememberthepleasurableanticipationwithwhichIviewedtheapproachingball.ButIdonotwondernowanymorethanIdidthenattheeagerdelightofthemenwhoforsevendaysintheweekswungtheirpicksupinthedarkbreastsofthemines，orwhochoppedandsawedamongthesolitarysilencesofthegreatforests.Anybreakinthelongandwearymonotonywaswelcome;whatmatteredthecostorconsequence！Totherudestandleastculturedofthemthesamenessofthelifemusthavebeenhardtobear;butwhatitwastomenwhohadseenlifeinitsmostculturedandattractiveformsIfailtoimagine.Fromthemine，blackandfoul，totheshack，bare，cheerless，andsometimeshideouslyrepulsive，lifeswunginheart—grindingmonotonytillthelongingfora’bigdrink’orsomeother’bigbreak’becametoogreattobear.
ItwaswellontowardseveningwhenSandy’sfourhorseteam，withaloadofmenfromthewoods，cameswingingroundthecurvesofthemountain—roadanddownthestreet.Agaycrowdtheywerewiththeirbright，brownfacesandheartyvoices;andintenminutesthewholestreetseemedalivewithlumbermen——theyhadafacultyofspreadingthemselvesso.Afternightfelltheminerscamedown’doneupslick，’forthiswasagreatoccasion，andtheymustbeuptoit.Themanagerappearedineveningdress;butthiswasvoted’toogiddy’bythemajority.
AsGraemeandIpasseduptotheBlackRockHotel，inthelargestore—roomofwhichtheballwastobeheld，wemetoldmanNelsonlookingverygrave.
’Going，Nelson，aren’tyou？’Isaid.
’Yes，’heansweredslowly;’I’lldropin，thoughIdon’tlikethelookofthingsmuch.’
’What’sthematter，Nelson？’askedGraemecheerily.’There’snofuneralon.’
’Perhapsnot，’repliedNelson，’butIwishMr.Craigwerehome.’
Andthenheadded，’There’sIdahoandSlavintogether，andyoumaybetthedevilisn’tfaroff.’
ButGraemelaughedathissuspicion，andwepassedon.Theorchestrawastuningup.Thereweretwoviolins，aconcertina，andthe’cello.BillyBreenwaslovinglyfingeringhisinstrument，nowandthenindulginghimselfinalittlesnatchofsomeairthatcametohimoutofhishappierpast.Helookedperfectlydelighted，andasIpausedtolistenhegavemeaproudglanceoutofhisdeep，little，blueeyes，andwentonplayingsoftlytohimself.
PresentlyShawcamealong.
’That’sgood，Billy，’hecalledout.’You’vegotthetrickyet，I
see.\"
ButBillyonlynoddedandwentonplaying.
’Where’sNixon？’Iasked.
’Gonetobed，’saidShaw，’andIamgladofit.Hefindsthatthesafestplaceonpay—dayafternoon.Theboysdon’tbotherhimthere.’
Thedancing—roomwaslinedontwosideswithbeer—barrelsandwhisky—kegs;atoneendtheorchestrasat，attheotherwasatablewithrefreshments，wherethe’softdrinks’mightbehad.Thosewhowantedanythingelsemightpassthroughashortpassageintothebarjustbehind.
Thiswasevidentlyasuperiorkindofball，forthemenkeptontheircoats，andwentthroughthevariousfigureswithfacesofunnaturalsolemnity.Butthestrainupontheirfeelingswasquiteapparent，anditbecameaquestionhowlongitcouldbemaintained.
Asthetripsthroughthepassage—waybecamemorefrequentthedancinggrewinvigourandhilarity，untilbythetimesupperwasannouncedthestiffnesshadsufficientlyvanishedtogivenofurtheranxietytothecommittee.
Butthecommitteehadothercauseforconcern，inasmuchasaftersuppercertainoftheminersappearedwiththeircoatsoff，andproceededto’knocktheknotsoutofthefloor’inbreak—downdancesofextraordinaryenergy.These，however，werebeguiledintothebar—roomand’filledup’forsafety，forthecommitteeweredeterminedthattherespectabilityoftheballshouldbepreservedtotheend.Theirreputationwasatstake，notinBlackRockonly，butattheLandingaswell，fromwhichmostoftheladieshadcome;
andtobeshamedinthepresenceoftheLandingpeoplecouldnotbeborne.Theirdifficultiesseemedtobeincreasing，foratthispointsomethingseemedtogowrongwiththeorchestra.The’celloappearedtobewanderingaimlesslyupanddownthescale，occasionallypickingupthetunewithanimation，andthendroppingit.AsBillysawmeapproaching，hedrewhimselfupwithgreatsolemnity，gravelywinkedatme，andsaid——
’Shlippedacog，MishterConnor！Moshhunfortunate！Beauchifulhinstrument，butshlipsacog.Moshhunfortunate！’
Andhewaggedhislittleheadsagely，playingallthewhilefordearlife，nowsecondandnowlead.
PoorBilly！Ipitiedhim，butIthoughtchieflyofthebeautiful，eagerfacethatleanedtowardshimthenighttheLeaguewasmade，andofthebrightvoicethatsaid，’You’llsignwithme，Billy？’
anditseemedtomeacrueldeedtomakehimlosehisgripoflifeandhope;forthisiswhatthepledgemeanttohim.
WhileIwastryingtogetBillyawaytosomesafeplace，Iheardagreatshoutinginthedirectionofthebar，followedbytramplingandscufflingoffeetinthepassage—way.Suddenlyamanburstthrough，crying——
’Letmego！Standback！IknowwhatI’mabout！’
ItwasNixon，dressedinhisbest;blackclothes，blueshirt，redtie，lookinghandsomeenough，buthalf—drunkandwildlyexcited.
ThehighlandFlingcompetitionwasonatthemoment，andAngusCampbell，Lachlan’sbrother，wasrepresentingthelumbercampsinthecontest.Nixonlookedonapprovinglyforafewmoments，thenwithaquickmovementheseizedthelittleHighlander，swunghiminhispowerfularmscleanoffthefloor，anddepositedhimgentlyuponabeer—barrel.Thenhesteppedintothecentreoftheroom，bowedtothejudges，andbeganasailor’shornpipe.
Thecommitteewereperplexed，butafterdeliberationtheydecidedtohumourthenewcompetitor，especiallyastheyknewthatNixonwithwhiskyinhimwasunpleasanttocross.
Lightlyandgracefullyhewentthroughhissteps，themencrowdinginfromthebartoadmire，forNixonwasfamedforhishornpipe.
Butwhen，afterthehornpipe，heproceededtoexecuteaclog—dance，garnishedwithacrobaticfeats，thecommitteeinterfered.Therewerecriesof’Puthimout！’and’Lethimalone！Goon，Nixon！’
AndNixonhurledbackintothecrowdtwoofthecommitteewhohadlaidremonstratinghandsuponhim，and，standingintheopencentre，criedoutscornfully——
’Putmeout！Putmeout！Certainly！Helpyourselves！Don’tmindme！’Thengrindinghisteeth，sothatIheardthemacrosstheroom，headdedwithsavagedeliberation，’Ifanymanlaysafingeronme，I’ll——I’lleathislivercold.’
Hestoodforafewmomentsglaringrounduponthecompany，andthenstrodetowardthebar，followedbythecrowdwildlyyelling.Theballwasforthwithbrokenup.IlookedaroundforBilly，buthewasnowheretobeseen.Graemetouchedmyarm——
’There’sgoingtobesomethingofatime，sojustkeepyoureyesskinned.’
’Whatareyougoingtodo？’Iasked.
’Do？Keepmyselfbeautifullyoutoftrouble，’hereplied.
InafewmomentsthecrowdcamesurgingbackheadedbyNixon，whowaswavingawhisky—bottleoverhisheadandyellingasonepossessed.
’Hello！’exclaimedGraemesoftly，’Ibegintosee.Lookthere！’
’What’sup？’Iasked.
’YouseeIdahoandSlavinandtheirpets，’hereplied.
’They’vegotpoorNixonintow.Idahoisrathernasty，’headded，’butIthinkI’lltakeahandinthisgame;I’veseensomeofIdaho’sworkbefore.’
Thescenewasonequitestrangetome，andwaswildbeyonddescription.Ahundredmenfilledtheroom.Bottleswerepassedfromhandtohand，andmendranktheirfill.Behindtherefreshment—tablesstoodthehotelmanandhisbarkeeperwiththeircoatsoffandsleevesrolleduptotheshoulder，passingoutbottles，anddrawingbeerandwhiskyfromtwokegshoistedupforthatpurpose.Nixonwasinhisglory.Itwashisnight.Everymanwastogetdrunkathisexpense，heproclaimed，flingingdownbillsuponthetable.NearhimweresomeLeaguemenhewastreatingliberally，andneverfarawaywereIdahoandSlavinpassingbottles，butevidentlydrinkinglittle.
IfollowedGraeme，notfeelingtoocomfortable，forthissortofthingwasnewtome，butadmiringthecoolassurancewithwhichhemadehiswaythroughthecrowdthatswayedandyelledandsworeandlaughedinamostdisconcertingmanner.
’Hello！’shoutedNixonashecaughtsightofGraeme.’Hereyouare！’passinghimabottle.’You’reaknocker，adouble—handedfrontdoorknocker.Youpolishedoffoldwhisky—soakhere，olddemijohn，’pointingtoSlavin，’andI’lllayfivetoonewecanlickanyblanketyblankthievesinthecrowd，’andhehelduparollofbills.
ButGraemeproposedthatheshouldgivethehornpipeagain，andthefloorwasclearedatonce，forNixon’shornpipewasverypopular，andtonight，ofcourse，wasinhighfavour.InthemidstofhisdanceNixonstoppedshort，hisarmsdroppedtohisside，hisfacehadalookoffear，ofhorror.
There，beforehim，inhisriding—cloakandboots，withhiswhipinhishandashehadcomefromhisride，stoodMr.Craig.Hisfacewaspallid，andhisdarkeyeswereblazingwithfiercelight.AsNixonstopped，Craigsteppedforwardtohim，andsweepinghiseyesrounduponthecirclehesaidintonesintensewithscorn——
’Youcowards！Yougetamanwherehe’sweak！Cowards！you’ddamnhissoulforhismoney！’
Therewasdeadsilence，andCraig，liftinghishat，saidsolemnly——
’MayGodforgiveyouthisnight’swork！’
Then，turningtoNixon，andthrowinghisarmoverhisshoulder，hesaidinavoicebrokenandhusky——
’Comeon，Nixon！we’llgo！’
Idahomadeamotionasiftostophim，butGraemesteppedquicklyforewordandsaidsharply，’Makewaythere，can’tyou？’andthecrowdfellbackandwefourpassedthrough，Nixonwalkingasinadream，withCraig’sarmabouthim.Downthestreetwewentinsilence，andontoCraig’sshack，wherewefoundoldmanNelson，withthefireblazing，andstrongcoffeesteamingonthestove.ItwashethathadtoldCraig，onhisarrivalfromtheLanding，ofNixon’sfall.
Therewasnothingofreproach，butonlygentlestpity，intoneandtouchasCraigplacedthehalf—drunk，dazedmaninhiseasy—chair，tookoffhisboots，broughthimhisownslippers，andgavehimcoffee.Then，ashisstuporbegantoovercomehim，Craigputhiminhisownbed，andcameforthwithafacewrittenoverwithgrief.
’Don’tmind，oldchap，’saidGraemekindly.
ButCraiglookedathimwithoutaword，and，throwinghimselfintoachair，puthisfaceinhishands.AswesatthereinsilencethedoorwassuddenlypushedopenandinwalkedAbeBakerwiththewords，’WhereisNixon？’andwetoldhimwherehewas.Wewerestilltalkingwhenagainatapcametothedoor，andShawcameinlookingmuchdisturbed.
’DidyouhearaboutNixon？’heasked.Wetoldhimwhatweknew.
’Butdidyouhearhowtheygothim？’heasked，excitedly.
Ashetoldusthetale，themenstoodlistening，withfacesgrowinghard.
ItappearedthatafterthemakingoftheLeaguetheBlackRockHotelmanhadbetIdahoonehundredtofiftythatNixoncouldnotbegottodrinkbeforeEaster.AllIdaho’sschemeshadfailed，andnowhehadonlythreedaysinwhichtowinhismoney，andtheballwashislastchance.Hereagainhewasbalked，forNixon，resistingallentreaties，barredhisshackdoorandwenttobedbeforenightfall，accordingtohisinvariablecustomonpay—days.
AtmidnightsomeofIdaho’smencamebatteringatthedoorforadmission，whichNixonreluctantlygranted.Forhalfanhourtheyusedeveryartofpersuasiontoinducehimtogodowntotheball，theglorioussuccessofwhichwasglowinglydepicted;butNixonremainedimmovable，andtheytooktheirdeparture，baffledandcursing.Intwohourstheyreturneddrunkenoughtobedangerous，kickedatthedoorinvain，finallygainedentrancethroughthewindow，hauledNixonoutofbed，and，holdingaglassofwhiskytohislips，badehimdrink.Butheknockedtheglasssway，spillingtheliquoroverhimselfandthebed.
Itwasdrinkorfight，andNixonwasreadytofight;butafterparleytheyhadadrinkallround，andfelltopersuasionagain.
Thenightwascold，andpoorNixonsatshiveringontheedgeofhisbed.Ifhewouldtakeonedrinktheywouldleavehimalone.Heneednotshowhimselfsostiff.Thewhiskyfumesfilledhisnostrils.Ifonedrinkwouldgetthemoff，surelythatwasbetterthanfightingandkillingsomeoneorgettingkilled.Hehesitated，yielded，drankhisglass.Theysatabouthimamiablydrinking，andlaudinghimasafinefellowafterall.Onemoreglassbeforetheyleft.ThenNixonrose，dressedhimself，drankallthatwasleftofthebottle，puthismoneyinhispocket，andcamedowntothedance，wildwithhisold—timemadness，recklessoffaithandpledge，forgetfulofhome，wife，babies，hiswholebeingabsorbedinonegreatpassion——todrinkanddrinkanddrinktillhecoulddrinknomore.
BeforeShawhadfinishedhistale，Craig’seyeswerestreamingwithtears，andgroansofrageandpitybrokealternatelyfromhim.Aberemainedspeechlessforatime，nottrustinghimself;butasheheardCraiggroan，’Oh，thebeasts！thefiends！’heseemedencouragedtolethimselfloose，andhebeganswearingwiththecoolestandmostblood—curdlingdeliberation.Craiglistenedwithevidentapproval，apparentlyfindingcompletesatisfactioninAbe’sperformance，whensuddenlyheseemedtowakenup，caughtAbebythearm，andsaidinahorror—strickenvoice——
’Stop！stop！Godforgiveus！wemustnotswearlikethis.’
Abestoppedatonce，andinasurprisedandslightlygrievedvoicesaid——
’Why！what’sthematterwiththat？Ain’tthatwhatyouwanted？’
’Yes！yes！Godforgiveme！Iamafraiditwas，’heansweredhurriedly;’butImustnot.’
’Oh，don’tyouworry，’wentonAbecheerfully;’I’lllookafterthatpart;andanyway，ain’ttheytheblankestblanketyblank’——
goingoffagainintoarollofcurses，tillCraig，inanagonyofentreaty，succeededinarrestingtheflowofprofanitypossibletonoonebutamountainstage—driver.Abepausedlookinghurt，andaskediftheydidnotdeserveeverythinghewascallingdownuponthem.
’Yes，yes，’urgedCraig;’butthatisnotourbusiness.’
’Well！soIreckoned，’repliedAbe，recognisingthelimitationsofthecloth;’youain’tusedtoit，andyoucan’tbeexpectedtodoit;butitjustmakesmefeelgood——letouto’schoollike——toproperlydo’emup，theblank，blank，’andoffhewentagain.ItwasonlyunderthepressureofMr.Craig’sprayersandcommandsthathefinallyagreed’toholdin，thoughitwastough.’
’What’stobedone？’askedShaw.
’Nothing，’answeredCraigbitterly.HewasexhaustedwithhislongridefromtheLanding，andbrokenwithbitterdisappointmentovertheruinofallthathehadlabouredsolongtoaccomplish.
’Nonsense，’saidGraeme;’there’sagooddealtodo.’
ItwasagreedthatCraigshouldremainwithNixonwhiletheothersofusshouldgatherupwhatfragmentswecouldfindofthebrokenLeague.Wehadjustopenedthedoor，whenwemetamanstridingupatagreatpace.ItwasGeordieCrawford.
’Haeyeseenthelad？’washissalutation.Noonereplied.SoI
toldGeordieofmylastsightofBillyintheorchestra.
’An’didyeno’gangaifterhim？’heaskedinindignantsurprise，addingwithsomecontempt，’Man！butye’reafecklessbuddie.’
’Billygonetoo！’saidShaw.’TheymighthaveletBillyalone.’
PoorCraigstoodinadumbagony.Billy’sfallseemedmorethanhecouldbear.Wewentout，leavinghimheart—brokenamidtheruinsofhisLeague.
CHAPTERIX
THELEAGUE’SREVENGE
AswestoodoutsideofCraig’sshackinthedimstarlight，wecouldnothidefromourselvesthatwewerebeaten.Itwasnotsomuchgriefasablindfurythatfilledmyheart，andlookingatthefacesofthemenaboutmeIreadthesamefeelingthere.Butwhatcouldwedo？TheyellsofcarousingminersdownatSlavin’stoldusthatnothingcouldbedonewiththemthatnight.Tobesoutterlybeaten，andunfairly，andwithnochanceofrevenge，wasmaddening.
’I’dliketogetbackat’em，’saidAbe，carefullyrepressinghimself.
’I’vegotit，men，’saidGraemesuddenly.’Thistowndoesnotrequireallthewhiskythereisinit’;andheunfoldedhisplan.
ItwastogainpossessionofSlavin’ssaloonandthebaroftheBlackRockHotel，andclearoutalltheliquortobefoundinboththeseplaces.Ididnotmuchliketheidea;andGeordiesaid，’I’mga’enaifterthelad;I’llhaenaethin’taedaewi’yon.It’s’no’
thateasy，an’it’sasinfu’waste.’
ButAbewaswildtotryit，andShawwasquitewilling，whileoldNelsonsternlyapproved.
’Nelson，youandShawgetacoupleofourmenandattendtothesaloon.SlavinandthewholegangareupattheBlackRock，soyouwon’thavemuchtrouble;butcometousassoonasyoucan.’
Andsowewentourways.
ThenfollowedascenethelikeofwhichIcanneverhopetoseeagain，anditwasworthaman’sseeing.ButthereweretimesthatnightwhenIwishedIhadnotagreedtofollowGraemeinhisplot.
Aswewentuptothehotel，IaskedGraeme，’Whataboutthelawofthis？’
’Law！’herepliedindignantly.’Theyhaven’ttroubledmuchaboutlawinthewhiskybusinesshere.Theygetakegofhighwinesandsomedrugsandbeginoperations.No！’hewenton;’ifwecangetthecrowdout，andourselvesin，we’llmakethembreakthelawingettingusout.Thelawwon’ttroubleusoversmuggledwhisky.
Itwillbeagreatlark，andtheywon’tcrowtooloudovertheLeague.’
Ididnotliketheundertakingatfirst;butasIthoughtofthewholewretchedillegalbusinessflourishingupontheweaknessofthemenintheminesandcamps，whomIhadlearnedtoregardasbrothers，andespeciallyasIthoughtofthecowardsthatdidforNixon，Iletmyscruplesgo，anddetermined，withAbe，’togetbackat’em.’
Wehadnodifficultygettingthemout.Abebegantoyell.Somemenrushedouttolearnthecause.Heseizedtheforemostman，makingahideousuproarallthewhile，andinthreeminuteshadeverymanoutofthehotelandalivelyrowgoingon.
IntwominutesmoreGraemeandIhadthedoortotheball—roomlockedandbarricadedwithemptycasks.Wethenclosedthedoorofthebar—roomleadingtotheoutside.Thebar—roomwasastronglybuiltlog—shack，withaheavydoorsecured，afterthemanneroftheearlycabins，withtwostrongoakbars，sothatwefeltsafefromattackfromthatquarter.
Theball—roomwecouldnotholdlong，forthedoorwasslightandentrancewaspossiblethroughthewindows.Butasonlyafewcasksofliquorwereleftthere，ourmainworkwouldbeinthebar，sothatthefightwouldbetoholdthepassage—way.Thiswebarricadedwithcasksandtables.Butbythistimethecrowdhadbeguntorealisewhathadhappened，andwerewildlyyellingatdoorandwindows.WithanaxewhichGraemehadbroughtwithhimthecasksweresoonstovein，andlefttoemptythemselves.
AsIwasabouttoemptythelastcask，Graemestoppedme，saying，’Letthatstandhere.Itwillhelpus.’Andsoitdid.’Nowskipforthebarricade，’yelledGraeme，asamancamecrashingthroughthewindow.Beforehecouldregainhisfeet，however，Graemehadseizedhimandflunghimoutupontheheadsofthecrowdoutside.
Butthroughtheotherwindowsmenwerecomingin，andGraemerushedforthebarricade，followedbytwooftheenemy，theforemostofwhomIreceivedatthetopandhurledbackupontheothers.
’Now，bequick！’saidGraeme;’I’llholdthis.Don’tbreakanybottlesonthefloor——throwthemoutthere，’pointingtoalittlewindowhighupinthewall.
Imadeallhaste.Thecasksdidnottakemuchtime，andsoonthewhiskyandbeerwereflowingoverthefloor.ItmademethinkofGeordie’sregretoverthe’sinfu’waste.’Thebottlestooklonger，andglancingupnowandthenIsawthatGraemewasbeinghardpressed.Menwouldleap，twoandthreeatatime，uponthebarricade，andGraeme’sarmswouldshootout，andovertheywouldtoppleupontheheadsofthosenearest.Itwasagreatsighttoseehimstandingalonewithasmileonhisfaceandthelightofbattleinhiseye，coollymeetinghisassailantswiththoseterrific，lightning—likeblows.Infifteenminutesmyworkwasdone.
’Whatnext？’Iasked.’Howdowegetout？’
’Howisthedoor？’hereplied.
Ilookedthroughtheport—holeandsaid，’Acrowdofmenwaiting.’
’We’llhavetomakeadashforit，Ifancy，’herepliedcheerfully，thoughhisfacewascoveredwithbloodandhisbreathwascominginshortgasps.
’Getdownthebarsandbeready.’Butevenashespokeachairhurledfrombelowcaughthimonthearm，andbeforehecouldrecover，amanhadclearedthebarricadeandwasuponhimlikeatiger.ItwasIdahoJack.
’Holdthebarricade，’Graemecalledout，astheybothwentdown.
Isprangtohisplace，butIhadnotmuchhopeofholdingitlong.
Ihadtheheavyoakbarofthedoorinmyhands，andswingingitroundmyheadImadethecrowdgivebackforafewmoments.
MeantimeGraemehadshakenoffhisenemy，whowascirclingabouthimuponhistip—toes，withalongknifeinhishand，waitingforachancetospring.
’Ihavebeenwaitingforthisforsometime，Mr.Graeme，’hesaidsmiling.
’Yes，’repliedGraeme，’eversinceIspoiledyourcut—throatgamein’Frisco.Howisthelittleone？’headdedsarcastically.
Idaho’sfacelostitssmileandbecamedistortedwithfuryashereplied，spittingouthiswords，’She——is——whereyouwillbebeforeIamdonewithyou.’
’Ah！youmurderedhertoo！You’llhangsomebeautifulday，Idaho，’
saidGraeme，asIdahospranguponhim.
Graemedodgedhisblowandcaughthisforearmwithhislefthandandhelduphighthemurderousknife.Backandforwardtheyswayedoverthefloor，slipperywithwhisky，theknifeheldhighintheair.IwonderedwhyGraemedidnotstrike，andthenIsawhisrighthandhunglimpfromthewrist.Themenwerecrowdinguponthebarricade.Iwasindespair.Graeme’sstrengthwasgoingfast.WithayellofexultantfuryIdahothrewhimselfwithallhisweightuponGraeme，whocouldonlyclingtohim.Theyswayedtogethertowardsme，butastheyfellIbroughtdownmybarupontheupraisedhandandsenttheknifeflyingacrosstheroom.
Idaho’showlofrageandpainwasmingledwithashoutfrombelow，andthere，dashingthecrowdrightandleft，cameoldNelson，followedbyAbe，Sandy，Baptiste，Shaw，andothers.Astheyreachedthebarricadeitcrasheddownand，carryingmewithit，pinnedmefast.
Lookingoutbetweenthebarrels，Isawwhatfrozemyheartwithhorror.InthefallGraemehadwoundhisarmsabouthisenemyandheldhiminagripsodeadlythathecouldnotstrike;butGraeme’sstrengthwasfailing，andwhenIlookedIsawthatIdahowasslowlydraggingbothacrosstheslipperyfloortowheretheknifelay.
Nearerandnearerhisoutstretchedfingerscametotheknife.InvainIyelledandstruggled.Myvoicewaslostintheawfuldin，andthebarricadeheldmefast.Aboveme，standingonabarrel—
head，wasBaptiste，yellinglikeademon.InvainIcalledtohim.
Myfingerscouldjustreachhisfoot，andheheedednotatallmytouch.SlowlyIdahowasdragginghisalmostunconsciousvictimtowardtheknife.Hisfingersweretouchingthebladepoint，when，underasuddeninspiration，Ipulledoutmypenknife，openeditwithmyteeth，anddrovethebladeintoBaptiste’sfoot.Withablood—curdlingyellhesprangdownandbegandancingroundinhisrage，peeringamongthebarrels.
’Look！look！’Iwascallinginagony，andpointing;’forheaven’ssake，look！Baptiste！’
Thefingershadclosedupontheknife，theknifewasalreadyhighintheair，when，withashriek，Baptisteclearedtheroomatabound，and，beforetheknifecouldfall，thelittleFrenchman’sboothadcaughttheupliftedwrist，andsenttheknifeflyingtothewall.
Thentherewasagreatrushingsoundasofwindthroughtheforest，andthelightswentout.WhenIawoke，IfoundmyselflyingwithmyheadonGraeme’sknees，andBaptistesprinklingsnowonmyface.
AsIlookedupGraemeleanedoverme，and，smilingdownintomyeyes，hesaid——
’Goodboy！Itwasagreatfight，andweputitupwell’;andthenhewhispered，’Ioweyoumylife，myboy.’
Hiswordsthrilledmyheartthroughandthrough，forIlovedhimasonlymencanlovemen;butIonlyanswered——
’Icouldnotkeepthemback.’
’Itwaswelldone，’hesaid;andIfeltproud.IconfessIwasthankfultobesowelloutofit，forGraemegotoffwithaboneinhiswristbroken，andIwithacoupleofribscracked;buthaditnotbeenfortheopenbarrelofwhiskywhichkeptthemoccupiedforatime，offeringtoogoodachancetobelost，andforthetimelyarrivalofNelson，neitherofushadeverseenthelightagain.
WefoundCraigsoundasleepuponhiscouch.Hisconsternationonwakingtoseeustorn，bruised，andbloodywaslaughable;buthehastenedtofinduswarmwaterandbandages，andwesoonfeltcomfortable.
Baptistewasradiantwithprideandlightoverthefight，andhoveredaboutGraemeandmegivingventtohisfeelingsinadmiringFrenchandEnglishexpletives.ButAbewasdisgustedbecauseofthefailureatSlavin’s;forwhenNelsonlookedin，hesawSlavin’sFrench—Canadianwifeincharge，withherbabyonherlap，andhecamebacktoShawandsaid，’Comeaway，wecan’ttouchthis’;andShaw，afterlookingin，agreedthatnothingcouldbedone.Ababyheldthefort.
AsCraiglistenedtotheaccountofthefight，hetriedhardnottoapprove，buthecouldnotkeepthegleamoutofhiseyes;andasI
picturedGraemedashingbackthecrowdthrongingthebarricadetillhewasbroughtdownbythechair，Craiglaughedgently，andputhishandonGraeme’sknee.AndasIwentontodescribemyagonywhileIdaho’sfingersweregraduallynearingtheknife，hisfacegrewpaleandhiseyesgrewwidewithhorror.
’Baptisteheredidthebusiness，’Isaid，andthelittleFrenchmannoddedcomplacentlyandsaid——
’Dat’smeforsure.’
’Bytheway，howisyourfoot？’askedGraeme.
’He’sfuss—rate.Dat’swhatyoucall——onebiteof——of——datleelbees，he’sdere，youputyourfingerdere，he’snotdere！——whatyoucallhim？’
’Flea！’Isuggested.
’Oui！’criedBaptiste.’Dat’sonebiteofflea.’
’IwasthankfulIwasunderthebarrels，’Ireplied，smiling.
’Oui！Dat’smak’mevermad.Ijumpan’swearmos’awfulbad.
Dat’spardonme，M’sieuCraig，heh？’
ButCraigonlysmiledathimrathersadly.’Itwasawfullyrisky，’
hesaidtoGraeme，’anditwashardlyworthit.They’llgetmorewhisky，andanywaytheLeagueisgone.’
’Well，’saidGraemewithasighofsatisfaction，’itisnotquitesuchaone—sidedaffairasitwas.’
Andwecouldsaynothinginreply，forwecouldhearNixonsnoringinthenextroom，andnoonehadheardofBilly，andtherewereothersoftheLeaguethatweknewwereevennowdownatSlavin’s.
ItwasthoughtbestthatallshouldremaininMr.Craig’sshack，notknowingwhatmighthappen;andsowelaywherewecouldandweneedednonetosingustosleep.
WhenIawoke，stiffandsore，itwastofindbreakfastreadyandoldmanNelsonincharge.Aswewereseated，Craigcamein，andI
sawthathewasnotthemanofthenightbefore.Hiscouragehadcomeback，hisfacewasquietandhiseyeclear;hewashisownmanagain.
’Geordiehasbeenoutallnight，buthasfailedtofindBilly，’heannouncedquietly.
Wedidnottalkmuch;GraemeandIworriedwithourbrokenbones，andtheotherssufferedfromageneralmorningdepression.But，afterbreakfast，asthemenwerebeginningtomove，CraigtookdownhisBible，andsaying——
’Waitafewminutes，men！’hereadslowly，inhisbeautifulclearvoice，thatpsalmforallfighters——
’Godisourrefugeandstrength，’
andsoontothenoblewords——
’TheLordofHostsiswithus;
TheGodofJacobisourrefuge.’
Howthemightywordspulledustogether，liftedustillwegrewashamedofourignoblerageandofourignobledepression！
AndthenCraigprayedinsimple，straight—goingwords.Therewasacknowledgementoffailure，butIknewhewasthinkingchieflyofhimself;andtherewasgratitude，andthatwasforthemenabouthim，andIfeltmyfaceburnwithshame;andtherewaspetitionforhelp，andweallthoughtofNixon，andBilly，andthemenwakeningfromtheirdebauchatSlavin’sthispure，brightmorning.AndthenheaskedthatwemightbemadefaithfulandworthyofGod，whosebattleitwas.Thenweallstoodupandshookhandswithhiminsilence，andeverymanknewacovenantwasbeingmade.ButnonesawhismeetingwithNixon.Hesentusallawaybeforethat.
Nothingwasheardofthedestructionofthehotelstock—in—trade.
Unpleasantquestionswouldcertainlybeasked，andtheproprietordecidedtoletbadalone.Onthepointofrespectabilitythesuccessoftheballwasnotconspicuous，buttheanti—Leaguemenwerecontent，ifnotjubilant.
BillyBreenwasfoundbyGeordielateintheafternooninhisownoldanddesertedshack，breathingheavily，coveredupinhisfilthy，moulderingbed—clothes，withahalf—emptybottleofwhiskyathisside.Geordie’sgriefandragewerebeyondevenhisScotchcontrol.Hespokefewwords，butthesewereofsuchconcentratedvehemencethatnoonefelttheneedofAbe’sassistanceinvocabulary.
PoorBilly！WecarriedhimtoMrs.Mavor’shome;puthiminawarmbath，rolledhiminblankets，andgavehimlittlesipsofhotwater，thenofhotmilkandcoffee;asIhadseenacleverdoctorinthehospitaltreatasimilarcaseofnerveandheartdepression.
Butthealreadyweakenedsystemcouldnotrecoverfromtheawfulshockoftheexposurefollowingthedebauch;andonSundayafternoonwesawthathisheartwasfailingfast.Alldaytheminershadbeendroppingintoinquireafterhim，forBillyhadbeenagreatfavouriteinotherdays，andtheattentionofthetownhadbeenadmiringlycentreduponhisfightoftheselastweeks.Itwaswithnoordinarysorrowthatthenewsofhisconditionwasreceived.AsMrs.Mavorsangtohim，hislargecoarsehandsmovedintimetothemusic，buthedidnotopenhiseyestillheheardMr.Craig’svoiceinthenextroom;thenhespokehisname，andMr.
Craigwaskneelingbesidehiminamoment.Thewordscameslowly——
’Oitried——tofightithout——but———oigotbeaten.Hit’urtstothink’E’shashamedo’me.Oi’dliket’adonebetter——oiwould.’
’Ashamedofyou，Billy！’saidCraig，inavoicethatbroke.’NotHe.’
’An’——yehall——’elpedmeso！’hewenton.’Oiwishoi’d’adonebetter——oido，’andhiseyessoughtGeordie，andthenrestedonMrs.Mavor，whosmiledbackathimwithaworldofloveinhereyes.
’Youhain’thashamedo’me——yoreheyessaighso，’hesaidlookingather.
’No，Billy，’shesaid，andIwonderedathersteadyvoice，’notabit.Why，Billy，Iamproudofyou.’
Hegazedupatherwithwonderandineffableloveinhislittleeyes，thenliftedhishandslightlytowardher.Shekneltquicklyandtookitinbothofhers，strokingitandkissingit.
’Oihaughtt’adonebetter.Oi’mhawfulsorryoiwentbackon’Im.
Hitwasthelemonaide.Theboysdidn’tmeanno’arm——buthitstartedthe’ellhinside.’
Geordiehurledoutsomebitterwords.
’Don’tbe’ardon’em，Geordie;theydidn’tmeanno’arm，’hesaid，andhiseyeskeptwaitingtillGeordiesaidhurriedly——
’Na！na！lad——a’lljuistleavethemtilltheAlmichty.’
ThenMrs.Mavorsangsoftly，smoothinghishand，’JustasIam，’
andBillydozedquietlyforhalfanhour.
WhenheawokeagainhiseyesturnedtoMr.Craig，andtheyweretroubledandanxious.
’Oitried’ard.Oiwantedtowin，’hestruggledtosay.BythistimeCraigwasmasterofhimself，andheansweredinaclear，distinctvoice——
’Listen，Billy！Youmadeagreatfight，andyouaregoingtowinyet.Andbesides，doyourememberthesheepthatgotlostoverthemountains？’——thisparablewasBilly’sspecialdelight——’Hedidn’tbeatitwhenHegotit，didhe？HetookitinHisarmsandcarriedithome.AndsoHewillyou.’
AndBilly，keepinghiseyesfastenedonMr.Craig，simplysaid——
’Will’E？’
’Sure！’saidCraig.
’Will’E？’herepeated，turninghiseyesuponMrs.Mavor.
’Why，yes，Billy，’sheansweredcheerily，thoughthetearswerestreamingfromhereyes.’Iwould，andHelovesyoufarmore.’
Helookedather，smiled，andclosedhiseyes.Iputmyhandonhisheart;itwasflutteringfeebly.Againatroubledlookpassedoverhisface.
’My——poor——hold——mother，’hewhispered，’she’s——hin——the——wukus.’
’Ishalltakecareofher，Billy，’saidMrs.Mavor，inaclearvoice，andagainBillysmiled.ThenheturnedhiseyestoMr.
Craig，andfromhimtoGeordie，andatlasttoMrs.Mavor，wheretheyrested.Shebentoverandkissedhimtwiceontheforehead.
’Tell’er，’hesaid，withdifficulty，\"E’stookme’ome.’
’Yes，Billy！’shecried，gazingintohisglazingeyes.Hetriedtoliftherhand.Shekissedhimagain.Hedrewonedeepbreathandlayquitestill.
’ThanktheblessedSaviour！’saidMr.Craig，reverently.’Hehastakenhimhome.’
ButMrs.Mavorheldthedeadhandtightandsobbedoutpassionately，’Oh，Billy，Billy！youhelpedmeoncewhenIneededhelp！Icannotforget！’
AndGeordie，groaning，’Ay，laddie，laddie，’passedoutintothefadinglightoftheearlyevening.
Nextdaynoonewenttowork，fortoallitseemedasacredday.
Theycarriedhimintothelittlechurch，andthereMr.Craigspokeofhislong，hardfight，andofhisfinalvictory;forhediedwithoutafear，andwithlovetothemenwho，notknowing，hadbeenhisdeath.Andtherewasnobitternessinanyheart，forMr.Craigreadthestoryofthesheep，andtoldhowgentlyHehadtakenBillyhome;but，thoughnowordwasspoken，itwastheretheLeaguewasmadeagain.
Theylaidhimunderthepines，besideLewisMavor;andtheminersthrewsprigsofevergreenintotheopengrave.WhenSlavin，sobbingbitterly，broughthissprig，noonestoppedhim，thoughallthoughtitstrange.
Asweturnedtoleavethegrave，thelightfromtheeveningsuncamesoftlythroughthegapinthemountains，and，fillingthevalley，touchedthetreesandthelittlemoundbeneathwithglory.
AndIthoughtofthatotherglory，whichisbrighterthanthesun，andwasnotsorrythatpoorBilly’swearyfightwasover;andI
couldnothelpagreeingwithCraigthatitwastheretheLeaguehaditsrevenge.
CHAPTERX
WHATCAMETOSLAVIN
BillyBreen’slegacytotheBlackRockminingcampwasanewLeague，whichwasmorethantheoldLeaguere—made.TheLeaguewasnewinitsspiritandinitsmethods.TheimpressionmadeuponthecampbyBillyBreen’sdeathwasveryremarkable，andIhaveneverbeenquiteabletoaccountforit.Themoodofthecommunityatthetimewaspeculiarlysusceptible.Billywasoneoftheoldestoftheold—timers.Hisdeclineandfallhadbeenalongprocess，andhisstruggleforlifeandmanhoodwasstrikingenoughtoarresttheattentionandawakenthesympathyofthewholecamp.Weinstinctivelysidewithamaninhisstruggleforfreedom;forwefeelthatfreedomisnativetohimandtous.Thesuddencollapseofthestrugglestirredthemenwithadeeppityforthebeatenman，andadeepcontemptforthosewhohadtrickedhimtohisdoom.
Butthoughthepityandthecontemptremained，thegloomwasrelievedandthesenseofdefeatremovedfromthemen’smindsbythetransforminggloryofBilly’slasthour.Mr.Craig，readingofthetragedyofBilly’sdeath，transfigureddefeatintovictory，andthiswasgenerallyacceptedbythemenasthetruereading，thoughtothemitwasfullofmystery.Buttheycouldallunderstandandappreciateatfullvaluethespiritthatbreathedthroughthewordsofthedyingman：’Don’tbe’ardon’em，theydidn’tmeanno’arm.’
AndthiswasthenewspiritoftheLeague.
ItwasthisspiritthatsurprisedSlavinintosuddentearsatthegrave’sside.Hehadcomebracedforcursesandvengeance，forallknewitwashewhohaddoctoredBilly’slemonade，andinsteadofvengeancethemessagefromthedeadthatechoedthroughthevoiceofthelivingwasoneofpityandforgiveness.
ButthedaysoftheLeague’snegative，defensivewarfarewereover.
Thefightwastothedeath，andnowthewarwastobecarriedintotheenemy’scountry.TheLeaguemenproposedathoroughlyequippedandwell—conductedcoffee—room，reading—room，andhall，toparalleltheenemy’slinesofoperation，anddefeatthemwiththeirownweaponsupontheirownground.Themainoutlinesoftheschemewereclearlydefinedandwereeasilyseen，buttheperfectingofthedetailscalledforallCraig’stactandgoodsense.When，forinstance，VernonWinton，whohadchargeoftheentertainmentdepartment，cameforCraig’sopinionastoaminstreltroupeandprivatetheatricals，Craigwaspromptwithhisanswer——
’Anythingcleangoes.’
’Aniggershow？’askedWinton.
’Dependsupontheniggers，’repliedCraigwithagravelycomiclook，shrewdlyadding，’askMrs.Mavor’;andsotheLeagueMinstrelandDramaticCompanybecameanestablishedfact，andproved，asCraigafterwardstoldme，’agreatmeansofgracetothecamp.’
Shawhadchargeofthesocialdepartment，whosespecialcareitwastoseethatthemenweremadewelcometothecosy，cheerfulreadingroom，wheretheymightchat，smoke，read，write，orplaygames，accordingtofancy.
ButCraigfeltthatthesuccessorfailureoftheschemewouldlargelydependuponthecharacteroftheResidentManager，who，whilecaringforreading—roomandhall，wouldcontrolandoperatetheimportantdepartmentrepresentedbythecoffee—room.
’Atthispointthewholebusinessmaycometogrief，’hesaidtoMrs.Mavor，withoutwhosecounselnothingwasdone.
’Whycometogrief？’sheaskedbrightly.
’Becauseifwedon’tgettherightman，that’swhatwillhappen，’
herepliedinatonethatspokeofanxiousworry.
’Butweshallgettherightman，neverfear.’Herserenecourageneverfaltered.’Hewillcometous.’
Craigturnedandgazedatherinfrankadmirationandsaid——
’IfIonlyhadyourcourage！’
’Courage！’sheansweredquickly.’Itisnotforyoutosaythat’;
andathisansweringlooktheredcameintohercheekandthedepthsinhereyesglowed，andImarvelledandwondered，lookingatCraig’scoolface，whetherhisbloodwererunningevenlythroughhisveins.Buthisvoicewasquiet，ashadetooquietIthought，ashegravelyreplied——