For a week he stirred not from the house.  And then thinking the first heat had passed, he commenced strolling out after dark.

One evening, having lighted a cigar, he was walking leisurely up the avenue, all fears of discovery set at rest by his fancied security, when his dream was rudely disturbed by a hand placed lightly on his shoulder.  Quick as a panther, he sprang to one side, placing himself on the defensive, and his hand upon his pistol ready for any emergency.  His startled gaze met a pitiful sight.  Ragged and tattered, his hands, trembling and face blanched with the first touch of delirium tremens, stood Oscar Cook.  Tottering up to Cummings, he whispered in tremulous tones: 

“Jim, they’re after me.  They most nabbed me.  Save me, Jim, save me!”

Alarmed lest the poor wretch would attract attention, Cummings placed his arm around him, and half-carrying, half-dragging him, bore him to his room.  Slipping the latch of the door, he turned up the gas.

Cook sank into a chair, his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands.  Every muscle was twitching, his eyes, staring stonily ahead, were bloodshot and fevered.  Horror was printed on his face, and his fingers, curved like bird’s claws, moved spasmodically over his head.

“They’re after me, Jim, they’re after me,” he repeated, again and again.

Greatly disturbed by the sudden appearance of the wretched Cook, Cummings hardly knew how to meet the emergency.  If he kept Cook with him, the tremens would come on, and in the delirium of the frenzy Cook would probably say something which would betray Cummings.  On the other hand, if he left the house to place Cook in some safe quarters, he courted detection.

He was in a tight box, and this, with the events which had just occurred and his close call of the week previous, made him somewhat nervous.  As he looked at the miserable wretch before him he saw that he wore the high-heeled boots and spurs of the cowboys, who make Kansas City a rendezvous.  In an instant his course was plain and he proceeded to execute it.

Handing Cook a large glass full of brandy, he bade him drink it.  The half-crazed man needed no urging, but clutching the glass he drank it down greedily.  Its effect was almost instantaneous.  His face lost the horrible expression, his fingers straightened out, and the trembling ceased.  Cummings watched him closely, and knowing that the liquor would only sustain him for a short time, he said: 

“Cook, where’s your horse?”

“Down at the livery stable on the next block.”

“Can you get me one at the same place?”

“Yes, a good one, too.”

“We must get out of here.  The place is too hot for us.  All the trains are watched, so we must leave a-horseback.  Go get your horse, hire one for me, and we’ll vamoose at once.”

Cook started up with alacrity, for as long as the brandy was potent the tremens would not effect him.