the usual "morning after" headache, and laughed ruefully.

"Same here," he said. "I've got one like a barrel, and I
didn't punish half the booze you did."

Bud did not say anything, but he reached for the bottle, tilted
it and swallowed three times before he stopped.

"Gee!" whispered Frank, a little enviously.

Bud glanced somberly across at Frank, who was sitting by the
stove with his jaws between his palms and his hair toweled,
regarding his guest speculatively.

"I'm going to get drunk again," Bud announced bluntly. "If you
don't want to, you'd better duck. You're too easy led--I saw
that last night. You follow anybody's lead that you happen to be
with. If you follow my lead to-day, you'll be petrified by night.
You better git, and let me go it alone."

Frank laughed uneasily. "Aw, I guess you ain't all that fatal,
Bud. Let's go over and have some breakfast--only it'll be
dinner."

"You go, if you want to." Bud tilted the bottle again, his eyes
half closed while he swallowed. When he had finished, he
shuddered violently at the taste of the whisky. He got up, went
to the water bucket and drank half a dipper of water. "Good
glory! I hate whisky," he grumbled. "Takes a barrel to have any
effect on me too." He turned and looked down at Frank with a