'But did you hear how they got him?' he asked, excitedly.
As he told us the tale, the men stood listening, with faces growing
hard.
It appeared that after the making of the League the Black Rock Hotel man
had bet Idaho one hundred to fifty that Nixon could not be got to drink
before Easter. All Idaho's schemes had failed, and now he had only three
days in which to win his money, and the ball was his last chance. Here
again he was balked, for Nixon, resisting all entreaties, barred his
shack door and went to bed before nightfall, according to his invariable
custom on pay-days. At midnight some of Idaho's men came battering at
the door for admission, which Nixon reluctantly granted. For half an
hour they used every art of persuasion to induce him to go down to the
ball, the glorious success of which was glowingly depicted; but Nixon
remained immovable, and they took their departure, baffled and cursing.
In two hours they returned drunk enough to be dangerous, kicked at the
door in vain, finally gained entrance through the window, hauled Nixon
out of bed, and, holding a glass of whisky to his lips, bade him drink.
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