Day by day Fergus grew morose and pale. His once jolly and laughing face grew stern and thoughtful. He rarely spoke to anyone, and once when Mr. O'Malley handed him a big schooner from a keg fresh from the brewery, he heaved such a deep and mournful sigh that the foam flew half across the room. "Kathleen," said her papa one day, "what's the matter wid that long-legged omadhaun Fergus? He looks like he was walking over his own grave." "Oh, papa," said Kathleen, bursting into tears, "I do not know, he seems to be full of bayou water." Let us follow Fergus and the sinister stranger, and see what spell is upon our hero. * * * * * William K. Meeks was a member of the notorious Young Men's Christian Association. His parents were honest and reputable citizens of Houston, and they had tried to inculcate in him the best principles, and train him to be a good and useful citizen. When about 18 years of age he met a man on the street one night who persuaded him to visit the rooms of the association. After taking a bath and joining in the singing of a hymn, he was led into a game of checkers by some smooth talking young man, and finally threw all reserve to the winds and without a thought of his mother or his home, sank back into an arm chair and began to read the editorials in a religious newspaper. After that his progress in the same direction was easy. He cultivated side whiskers and white ties and fell so swiftly into the alluring ways of his companions that no ice cream and strawberry sociable or Evening of Song in the hall of the association was complete without Mr. Meeks. He became what is known as a "capper" for the hall, and many poor wandering young fellows strolling aimlessly about the streets of Houston have good cause to remember the sly, suave, plausible voice of the low-browed William Meeks, as he addressed them in insinuating tones, and invited them to the gorgeously lighted rooms of the Young Men's Christian Association. William Meeks had for a long time had his eye upon Fergus O'Hollihan. The innocent straightforwardness of the young Irishman seemed to mark him as an easy prey. One day he entered Fergus' store, made some trifling purchase, and then invited him to the hall. "All right," said Fergus, "I'll walk up with you, as trade is a little dull. Hadn't we better take along a bottle of whiskey to help pass away the time?" "No," said William, with a sly smile. "There is no need. We have plenty to drink up there." They passed down the street together, and then it was that Kathleen saw them, and the cloud began to gather over her happy young life. William led Fergus to the door of the steps leading up to the hall, gave a sharp glance around to see whether they were observed, and they ascended the stairs. "What do you fellows do up there?" asked Fergus, gazing around the hall in wonder. "We read and sing and pray," said William. "Now, come over here, Mr. O'Hollihan, I have something to show you."