CHAPTER XVII. DEMONS. A few nights later Richard sat in his dingy room in thought. He was reviewing the work of the recent past. As the scenes of the neighborhood rose before him, and the solitariness of his position stood out in his mind, he felt unutterably lonely. He missed the fellowship of school days. He had brought his books with him, and often turned to them for companionship, but he needed the cheer of voice and heart. Would the time ever come when he could ask Kate to come and share life with him? Would she be satisfied in such surroundings? Her letters from Europe never asked about his work, or mentioned the things he wrote about it. A dread had been growing in him that their pathways were in reality growing apart. His heart stood still at the suggestion of losing her. It could not be. When she was back where he could tell her of the need and the glory of the work, she would feel as he did. The face of Commencement day, with its expression of intense interest in his theme, came back to him. Oh, if only Kate would become as interested as that, what would not their life mean together? It was nearly midnight when he was brought back to himself by the sound of knocking at the outer door of the mission. Unlocking it, there stood Mrs. Miller with an unspeakable agony upon her face. "Oh, Mr. Harrison, my poor man is gone. They have ruined him. What will become of baby and me now?" Sobs broke off her words. Richard learned that at noon that day, as John was eating his dinner in the fish house, the men noticed, that as he drank his coffee a look of despair came over him, and with a curse he dropped his cup and ran out. "Richard tried to assure the broken-hearted wife that all would come out well, and at last persuaded her to return home, promising that he would find John. A dreadful suspicion filled his mind. He had heard that the saloon-keepers had boasted that John would drink again. Can it be possible that there are those who would deliber ately plan to ruin a man who is struggling for manhood? Richard hurried to the fish house and found the night watchman, but nothing had been seen of John. He found the lunch pail and the cup where it had fallen. A few spoonfuls remained in the coffee can. He put it to his lips and tasted; it was strong with liquor. Richard said nothing, but asked if anyone had been seen about the house during the day. He was referred to the day watchman. Richard found his home and awoke the man. Yes, he had seen the barkeeper of Bill Schenk's saloon, who said as he passed out that he had been in to see one of the men. Richard thanked him and hastened away. Every drop of his blood tingled with indignation at such a crime. He must find John. He was surprised to see how much the fisherman had entered into his life. He must find him. He must save him. Into saloon after saloon he went searching, but no trace could be found of the missing man. He began to wonder if John in his despair and shame had taken his own life. He was about to pass one of the large sa |