[CHAPTER XII]
GUS PLUM'S STORY
"You may think it strange when I tell you that I come by my appetite for liquor naturally, yet such is a fact," began Gus Plum, after a pause, during which he seemed to collect his thoughts. "You fellows who don't know what such an appetite is are lucky—far more lucky than you can realize. It's an awful thing to have such an appetite—it makes one feel at times as though he were doomed.
"We always had liquor at our house and my folks drank it at meals, just as their folks had done before them, so I heard. When I was a small boy I was allowed to have my glass of wine, and on holidays we had punch and I got my share. Sometimes, I can remember, friends remonstrated with my folks for letting me have the stuff, but my father would laugh and say it was all right—that he had had it himself when he was a boy and that it wouldn't hurt me. My father never drank to excess, to my knowledge, but his brother, my uncle, did, and once when Uncle Jim was under the influence of liquor, he slipped under a street car and had his arm crushed so badly he had to have it amputated.
"My uncle's losing that arm scared me a little. I was then about ten years old, and I made up my mind I wouldn't drink much more. But the stuff tasted good to me and I didn't want to break off entirely. So I continued to drink a little and then a little more, until I thought I couldn't have my dinner without wine, or something like that, to go with it."
"When I was about thirteen a lady I knew well gave a New Year's party to a lot of young folks, and I was invited. I was one of the youngest boys there. The lady had punch, set out in a big cut-glass bowl on a stand in a corner of the hall, with sandwiches and cake alongside. I tried that punch and liked it, and I drank so much that I got noisy, and the lady had to send me home in her carriage."
"I guess that woke my father up to the fact that matters were going too far, and he told me I mustn't drink liquor away from home. He couldn't stop me from drinking at our house, for he had it himself there. But he had helped me to get the appetite, and I couldn't stop. On the next Fourth of July I spent my money in a tavern some distance away from where we lived, and there some rascals—I can't call them men—treated me liberally, just to see me make a fool of myself, I suppose. The fellows teased me until I got in a rage and I took up a bottle and cracked it to pieces over one fellow's head, injuring him badly.
"This brought matters to a climax and my father told me he was going to send me to boarding school. I did not want to go at first, but he said he felt sure it would do me good, and finally I went to Sandville, and then came to Oak Hall.
"At first all went well, for I saw no liquor and got little chance to get any, but after a while the appetite forced itself on me once more, and—and you know what followed."
As Gus Plum concluded he covered his face with his hands and looked the picture of misery and despair. Dave had sunk down on the rock beside him and he placed a hand on the other's shoulder.
"Is that all, Gus?" he asked, quietly.