At the door the missionary stood looking up into the night sky and humming softly "Sun of My Soul," and after a few minutes The Duke joined in humming a bass to the air till Bruce could contain himself no longer.
"I say," he called out, "this isn't any blanked prayer-meeting, is it?"
The Duke ceased humming, and, looking at Bruce, said quietly: "Well, what is it? What's the trouble?"
"Trouble!" shouted Bruce. "I don't see what hymn-singing has to do with a poker game."
"Oh, I see! I beg pardon! Was I singing?" said The Duke. Then after a pause he added, You're quite right. I say, Bruce, let's quit. Something has got on to your nerves." And coolly sweeping his pile into his pocket, he gave up the game. With an oath Bruce left the table, took another drink, and went unsteadily out to his horse, and soon we heard him ride away into the darkness, singing snatches of the hymn and ring the most awful oaths.
The missionary's face was white with horror. It was all new and horrible to him.
"Will he get safely home?" he asked of The Duke.
