on the table--"and--and--this gentleman asked me to come. He's not to
blame; he thought I wanted a drink."

His new-found friend looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Oh take
a glass, stranger. You need it; and then help yourself to the lunch."

Dick shook his head; he could not speak.

"Look here!" broke in the bartender, with another string of vile
language, as he quickly filled the empty glass and set it on the counter
before Dick. "You drink this er git out. That there lunch is fer our
customers and we aint got no room fer temperance cranks er bums.
Which'll it be? Talk quick."

Dick's eyes went from the food to the liquor; then to the saloon man's
hard face, while a strange hush fell over those who witnessed the
scene. Slowly the stranger swept the room with a pleading glance, but
met only curious indifference on every side. Again he turned to the
food and liquor, and put out his hand. A light of triumph flashed in
the eyes of the man behind the bar, but the hand was withdrawn and
Dick backed slowly toward the door. "I won't," he said, between his
clenched teeth, then to his would-be friend, "Thank you for your good
intention."

The silence in the room was broken by a shout of harsh laughter as the
bartender raised the glass of beer he had drawn for Dick and mockingly
drank him good luck as the poor fellow stepped through the doorway
leaving warmth and food behind.

All that day Dick continued his search for work. Night came on again