It did seem to Fred Macdonald as if everything conspired to make his task as hard as it could possibly be.  Crayme was already under the influence of more liquor than was necessary to his well-being, and the boat carried as passengers a couple of men, who, though professional gamblers, Crayme found very jolly company when they were not engaged in their business calling.  Besides, Captain Crayme was running against time with an opposition boat which had just been put upon the river, and he appreciated the necessity of having the boat’s bar well stocked and freely opened to whoever along the river was influential in making or marring the reputation of steamboats.  Fred finally got the captain into his own room, however, and made a freight contract so absent-mindedly that the sagacious captain gained an immense advantage over him; then he acted so awkwardly, and looked so pale, that the captain suggested chills, and prescribed brandy.  Fred smiled feebly, and replied,

“No, thank you, Sam; brandy’s at the bottom of the trouble.  I”—­here Fred made a tremendous attempt to rally himself—­“I want you to swear off, Sam.”

The astonishment of Captain Crayme was marked enough to be alarming at first; then the ludicrous feature of Fred’s request struck him so forcibly that he burst into a laugh before whose greatness Fred trembled and shrank.

“Well, by thunder!” exclaimed the captain, when he recovered his breath; “if that isn’t the best thing I ever heard yet!  The idea of a steamboat captain swearing off his whisky!  Say, Fred, don’t you want me to join the Church?  I forgot that you’d married a preacher’s daughter, or I wouldn’t have been so puzzled over your white face to-day.  Sam Crayme brought down to cold water!  Wouldn’t the boys along the river get up a sweet lot of names for me—­the ‘Cold-water Captain,’ ’Psalm-singing Sammy!’ and then, when an editor or any other visitor came aboard, wouldn’t I look the thing, hauling out glasses and a pitcher of water!  Say, Fred, does your wife let you drink tea and coffee?”

“Sam!” exclaimed Fred, springing to his feet, “if you don’t stop slanting at my wife, I’ll knock you down.”

“Good!” said the captain, without exhibiting any signs of trepidation. “Now you talk like yourself again.  I beg your pardon, old fellow; you know I was only joking, but it is too funny.  You’ll have to take a trip or two with me again, though, and be reformed.”

“Not any,” said Fred, resuming his chair; “take your wife along, and reform yourself.”

“Look here, now, young man,” said the captain, “you’re cracking on too much steam.  Honestly, Fred, I’ve kept a sharp eye on you for two or three months, and I am right glad you can let whisky alone.  I’ve seen times when I wished I were in your boots; but steamboats can’t be run without liquor, however it may be with woolen mills.”

“That’s all nonsense,” said Fred.  “You get trade because you run your boat on time, charge fair prices, and deliver your freight in good order.  Who gives you business because you drink and treat?”