"Oh nuthin, only I'm Jake Tompkins, that used ter work fer Jimpson at
the still. Me 'n yer daddy war pards; I used ter set 'em up ter him
heap o' times."
"Yes," replied Dick bitterly, "I know you now. You gave my father
whiskey and then laughed when he went home drunk and drove my mother
from the cabin to spend the night in the brush. You know it killed
her."
"Yer maw allus was weakly-like," faltered the other; "she'd no call
ter hitch up with Bill Falkner no how; she ort ter took a man with
book larnin' like her daddy, ole Jedge White. It allus made yer paw
mad 'cause she knowed more'n him. But Bill lowed he'd tame her an' he
shor' tried hit on. Too bad she went an' died, but she ort ter knowed
a man o' Bill's spirit would a took his licker when he wanted hit. I
recollect ye used ter take a right smart lot yerself fer a kid."
The defiance in the young man's voice gave way to a note of hopeless
despair. "Yes," he said, "you and dad made me drink the stuff before
I was old enough to know what it would do for me." Then, with a bitter
oath, he continued, half to himself, "What difference does it make
anyway. Every time I try to break loose something reaches out and pulls
me down again. I thought I was free this time sure and here comes this
thing. I might as well go to the devil and done with it. Why shouldn't
I drink if I want to; whose business is it but my own?" He looked
around for the familiar sign of a saloon.
"That's the talk," exclaimed the other with a swagger.
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