"
He walked with the unmistakable step of those who knew the long road--an
easy, swinging, steady step--carrying his small black bag. So I
gradually drew him out, and when I had his whole story it was as simple
and common, but as wonderful, as daylight: as fundamental as a tree or a
rock.
"You see, Mister," he said, "I was a wild sort when I was young. The
drink, and worse. I hear folks say sometimes that if they'd known what
was right they'd have done it. But I think that conscience never stops
ringing little bells in the back of a man's head; and that if he doesn't
do what is right, it's because he _wants_ to do what is wrong. He thinks
it's more amusing and interesting. I went through all that, Mister, and
plenty more besides. I got pretty nearly as low as a man ever gets. Oh,
I was down and out: no home, no family, not a friend that wanted to see
me. If you never got down that low, Mister, you don't know what it is.
You are just as much dead as if you were in your grave. I'm telling you.
"I thought there was no help for me, and I don't know's I wanted to be
helped. I said to myself, 'You're just naturally born weak and it isn't
your fault,' It makes a lot of men easier in their minds to lay up their
troubles to the way they are born.
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