“We made camp together—him and me. We had two home-camps where I told you, and met at the end of each week, bringing the skins we had taken, which we stored in one of ’em. We got along together swimmingly for a bit. But Chris had a weakness which I had found out long before. I guess he took it from his mother’s people. Give him one drink of whiskey, and it stirred up all the mud that was in him. There’s mud in every man, I s’pose; and there’s nothing like liquor for bringing it to the surface. A gulp of fire-water changed Chris from an honest, right-hearted fellow to a crazy devil. This had set the lumbermen against him. But I hoped that in the lonely woods where we trapped he wouldn’t get a chance to see the stuff. He did, though, and when I wasn’t there to make a fight against his swallowing it.