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Mr. Beavers stared at Abner, then saw he was telling the truth.

"Godfrey's Cordial—didn't you take it!"

"Nope."

"Why didn't you?"

"Mr. Ditmas give me the wink."

"Fuh God's sake!" gasped Mr. Beavers, lowering his pistol laxly. "Did you let a man wink you out of five hunderd dollars! Why, Abner, with five hunderd dollars you could uh broke any crap game that gits started t'-morrer."

Mention of a game recalled to Abner the engineer's request.

"By the way, Tug, he told me to tell all you fellers that he was goin' to git up a big game of baseball to-morrer."

"Baseball—to-morrer?"

"Yeh."

"Why, to-morrer's Sunday."

"That's what I tol' him," declared Abner in a reinforced tone.

"Abner, he kain't keep as big a thing as a baseball game hid—where did he say he was goin' to pull it off?"

"In that open field by the railroad dump."

"Great Scots, ever'body'll see us!"

"He talked like he meant to jest come right out before ever'body an' let 'em see!" declared Abner roundly.

"My God, Abner, that wouldn't be right—desecratin' the Sabbath wide open like that. Why, hell far—" Mr. Beavers's observations dwindled away to murmured oaths and blasphemies and finally to silence as he pondered the right and wrong of it. Finally out of his reflections he declared with genuine conviction, "By God, I'm not that bad, Abner. I know I'm goin' to hell, but damn my riggin' if I'll go out an' play ball open on Sunday! I may have some influence in this world, Abner, an' I'm goin' to throw her for good no matter what I do myself." He paused and looked Abner belligerently in the eye. "Do you blame me?"

"No, I don't," admitted Abner, curiously moved.