“Well, I’ve been saving up all my spare money ever since to pay off that mortgage, which expires next week. I have got the whole amount, and four hundred dollars more, in the bank at Ucayga, and I’m going to take it out to-day, and pay up. That’s what’s the matter, Wolf; but I don’t quite like this row with Waddie.”
Christy listened with quite as much interest as I did to the story of my father.
CHAPTER IV.
ON THE LOCOMOTIVE.
After we had sufficiently discussed the explosion and my father’s financial affairs, Christy Holgate took from under the seat where he sat a curiously-shaped black bottle and a tumbler. I would rather have seen him take a living rattlesnake from the box, and place it at my feet—or rather at my father’s feet, for it was on his account that I shuddered when I heard the owner of the bottle declare that it contained “old rye whiskey.” Christy told a tedious story about the contents of this “vial of wrath”—where it was distilled in the State of Kentucky; how a particular friend of his had procured two quarts of it, and no more of that year’s manufacture could be had in the whole nation, either for love or for money.
One would have supposed, from the eloquent description of its virtues, that it was the nectar of the gods, instead of the fiery fluid which men put into their mouths to take their brains away. I was disgusted with the description, and I shuddered the more when I saw that my father was interested in it, and that he cast longing glances at the queer-shaped bottle. I had heard that my father lost his situation at the town on the Hudson by drinking to excess, and I trembled lest the old appetite should be revived in him. If he had been a man like Christy Holgate I should not have trembled, as I viewed the case, for he had drunk liquor all his lifetime to moderation, and no one had ever known him to be intoxicated. It was not so with my father. He had struggled manfully against the insidious appetite, and, with only a couple of exceptions, he had always done so successfully. Twice, and twice only, had he been under the influence of liquor since he came to Centreport. I feared, if he tasted the contents of the strange-looking bottle, that the third time would have to be added to the list.
Christy poured out a glass of the “old rye” and my father drank it. The engineer of the boat took one himself; and both of them talked very fast then till the steamer arrived at her destination. I was alarmed for my father’s safety, and I tried to induce him to go on shore the moment we reached the wharf; but before we could leave Christy produced the bottle again, and both of them took a second dram, though I noticed that the engineer took a very light one himself.
The effect upon my father was soon apparent, though he did not appear to be actually intoxicated. He did not stagger, but he talked in a loud and reckless manner. He gave me a dollar, and told me to spend it for anything I wanted. He said it was a holiday, and he wished me to have a good time. I put the dollar in my pocket, but I did not leave my father. I was mortified by his blustering speech and extravagant manner, but I still clung to him. I hoped my presence would prevent him from taking another dram; and I think it did; for though, on our way to the bank, we passed several bar-rooms, he did not offer to enter one of them. Two or three times he hinted to me that I had better go and enjoy myself alone, which assured me that he desired to drink again, but did not wish to do so before me.
I have since learned that a man will always be more circumspect before his children than when away from them. He feels his responsibility at such times, and is unwilling to degrade himself before those who are his natural dependents. I told my father I had no place to go to, that I did not wish to buy anything, and that I preferred to remain with him. He was vexed at my obstinacy, but he did not say anything. We went to the bank together, and he drew out his money, twenty-four hundred dollars—more than he had ever possessed at one time before. It would discharge the mortgage on the place, and leave him four hundred dollars to make certain improvements which he contemplated.
The whiskey which he had drunk made him feel rich, and it pained me to see him manifest his feelings in a very ridiculous way. He put the money in a great leather pocket-book he carried, and placed it in his breast pocket. By various little devices I induced him to return to the steamer with me. When it was too late I was sorry I had done so, for Christy Holgate again placed the bottle to his lips, taking hardly a teaspoonful of its contents himself. It would be an hour before the train arrived, whose passengers the steamer was to convey up the lake, and I trembled for the safety of my father and of the large sum of money he had in his pocket.