"It's a dirty trick on Margie, though." "I know.

But I'm thinking of Buddy.

Now, in Heaven's name, hurry! My constitution may survive a few more road houses, but my reputation will not." That night was a repetition of the one before, but with variations and with trimmings, for Buddy wore his "two-pint trousers" again, and this time they were loaded, hence Gray had a chance to observe him at his best--or worst.

A little liquor went a long way with the boy; he derived much effect, many by-products, so to speak, from even a few drinks, and the elder man was forcibly reminded of Gus Briskow's statement that his son had a streak of the Old Nick in him.

It was true; Buddy was indeed like a wild horse.