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Rh us. The only way to stop him is to get him drunk. You must do it."

"There's Cameron, too, sir."

"You must fill him up also, Higgins."

"Sir," said the old man solemnly, "I cannot bring myself down so low. I'm a sober, God-fearing, respectable man and if I get drunk, I could never show my face in Maytown again, but, sir, I know a man who would be only too pleased—"

"Higgins, how can you suggest such a thing?"

"Sir, Bob Jenkins would do it like a shot."

"Bob's away out at the Comet."

"Well, then there's Isaac Brown."

This was true. To Isaac a good soak would be a midsummer night's dream. Higgins saw that I hesitated. Before I could stop him, he had called Brown out of Ahlers' bar. "Brown," he said, "Mr. Bellew wentswants [sic] you to get drunk."

"Holy mother—what!"

"Here are a couple of pounds, Brown," I chimed in before he recovered. "I want you to get hold of Cameron and Hughes, start drinking and keep them at it until morning."

"Two pounds! You bet your sweet life! I'll make 'em drunker than lords." Brown, asking no questions, went off in search of Cameron and Hughes, whom he met coming from Wonacott's, in whose paddock they kept their horses hobbled.

"Now, Higgins, who knows the road to Buchanan?" I asked as soon as we had watched Brown manoeuvre his quarry into Ahlers' bar.

"There's no one except Paddy Fahey. He's going out to Mount Madden to-morrow, been making there for months. Buchanan's seven miles beyond, and Paddy's the only man who knows the track."

In a few minutes we stumbled into Paddy's, where a fat girl was playing the "Maiden's Prayer" on an instrument that was once a harmonium. In the old