"You told me that some time ago."
"Yes, but under different circumstances. When I told you, I was sick and wouldn't have touched a drop if a barrel full had been under my nose; but I tell you now when I am well. Do you know the reason why I am so strong in the faith now? Of course you don't, and that is what I am going to tell you. I was out in the stable this evening and I found a bottle of liquor. Blast me if I hadn't been wanting it all day. But what did I do? I went out and threw the bottle—and the liquor—as far as I could send it, and I heard it squash in the street. And now I want to ask you if that wasn't nerve."
Lyman summoned his patience and agreed that it was nerve, and the old man continued. "I told my wife about it, but she didn't believe me. And now what I want you to do is to convince her that it is a fact. You can do it with a clear conscience, for I will swear to it. The fact is there's going to be a reunion of the old home guard at Downer's grove, about fifteen miles from here, and I want to go. I went last year and—well, I fell, somewhat. But I wouldn't fall this time, and I want you to tell Tobithy and Annie to let me go."
"And what if you come home drunk?"
"Lyman," said the old man, puffing up, "I have always stood as your friend. I have got out of bed at night to argue in your behalf, and I didn't expect no sich treatment as this. If you want to stab me, why don't you out with your knife and pop it to me right under the ribs. Here," he added, turning toward Lyman and smoothing his shirt tight over his side, "stab me right here and I won't say a word; but, for the Lord's sake, don't question my honor. Let me tell you something: I am a poor man and in debt; I need clothes and sometimes I am out of tobacco, but I wouldn't touch a drop of whisky for money enough to dam the Mississippi river. That's me, Lyman, and you may wollop it about in your mouth and chew on it. It is no more than natural that I should want to join my old friends. Of course we were not actually in the army, but we would have been soldiers if we hadn't been captured and disarmed, and we have an affection for the old organization. There ain't many of us left and it is cruelty to keep us apart. And I can't go unless Tobithy lets me take the money. It won't require more than five dollars. Will you assure her that I'll come home sober?"
"I don't think I can do that, Uncle Jasper. Understand, now, I believe you think you'll keep sober, but the truth of it is you can't. Why, if you didn't drink, the old fellows wouldn't be your companions."
The "veteran" smoothed his shirt over his side. "Stab me," he said. "Pop your knife under this rib—this one, right here. It will be a mercy to me if you do. When a man out-lives his word of honor, it's time to go and go violently. Pop it."
"Your drinking doesn't amount to much, Uncle Jasper. You don't drink viciously, but reminiscently. However, it is a crime to take money from those women—Hold on; I know you do all you can to earn a living; you work whenever anything comes up, but you haven't earned five dollars in—"
"I earned the money, but the scoundrel didn't pay me," the old fellow broke in. "I've got hundreds of dollars owin' to me, but the rascals laugh at me. I cured old Thompson's sick horse—worked with him all night, nearly, and he gave me a dollar. Haven't earned five dollars! the devil! How can a man earn five dollars when a scoundrel pays him one dollar for fifteen dollars' worth of labor? The shirt ain't very thick. The knife will go in all right. Pop it." He smoothed his shirt and closed his eyes as if expecting the death blow.
"You didn't let me get through," said Lyman. "I was going to say that your drinking did no particular harm. To meet your old cronies and to warm up with them is about all that is left to you of real enjoyment. Sooner or later we all live in the past, and there can be no very great evil in bringing the past near. So, now, if you will promise me to come home in as good condition as you can, I will give you five dollars."