“I’d like to sit here and read, that’s all,” he added after a while, since the other made no reply. “I have no other place to go.”
“Who are you, bo?” asked the saloon-keeper curiously. His education in human nature did not often lead him astray. He knew now this was no ordinary drunk, and no ordinary man. “What’s your line?” he asked again.
“I’m a preacher, sir,” replied Joslin, “or I was to have been—till to-night.”
The barkeeper laughed shortly. “Well, I believe you’d fight fair,” said he. And then quickly, “Say, I’ll take a chance with you! I’ll leave you here to-night. I believe you’re up against it. You can drink yourself crazy, or steal all the stock if you like. Or you can do as you say—stay here until I come back in the morning.”
Joslin looked at him, still swaying slightly, his hands upon the polished wood, steadying himself.
“To some men I’d say, ‘Take a drink and pull together,’ but with you I won’t,” said the proprietor. “Fight it out. It’s a man’s game, friend. By morning you’ll know whether you’re going up or down.”
“And you’ll accept that risk with a stranger?” said Joslin.
“You’ve got the risk—this night will have bigger chances in it for you than for me! Two or three drinks and I might find you on the floor in the morning. None at all, and I may find you sitting there. Risk’s yours, not mine. If that’s the way you want it——
“Well, fly to it, friend,” he concluded, chuckling grimly. “Don’t ask it again—I don’t know what I might do.”
“No,” said Joslin, “I shall never have another night like this. Let me sit here and read to-night. I will thank you al-ways.”