Passing one of the cheap saloons of that locality Dick paused, for to his ears came the sound of singing. The voice was a melodious one, and he was sure he recognized it as that of the boy he sought. The song was a reckless drinking melody, and the singer was joined when it came to the chorus by several hoarse voices, roaring as follows:
"We’ll send her round again, boys,
So drink your bumpers dry;
“Whisky was made for men, boys,
And men will drink and die!”
“He is in there,” muttered Dick, “and it is plain he is carousing with a lot of desperate characters.”
Approaching the place, Dick quickly discovered why he had heard the singing so plainly, for a window stood open. He did not enter, but passed round the corner and paused near this window, where he looked into the low, smoky barroom. It was a sailor’s resort, and a number of rough-looking men were inside.
Standing in front of the bar, glass in hand, was Chester Arlington, swaying slightly as he sang the second stanza of the drinking song.
Again the sailors joined in the chorus, some of them thumping the tables at which they were seated, while Arlington beat time in an extravagant manner.
As they finished, Arlington hurled his glass, liquor and all, crashing against the wall.