Glasses were brought out and Arlington filled them, spilling much of the whisky in doing so. His condition was both pitiful and disgusting.
“Now, Mr. Merriwell,” he said with sarcastic dignity—"now, Captain Merriwell, I invite you to drink with me. I am sure you won’t refuse. Lazaro, hold the whisky to the young gentleman’s lips. Let him taste the kind of stuff that real men drink. It will do him good. See that he drinks it. Make him drink it! Confound him! Drive it into him!"
Lazaro took a glass of the stuff and started to obey.
“Wait!” commanded Chet. “Come to think of it, I would like that job myself. I want to be the first person to put a drink into him. Give me the booze.”
In taking the glass from Lazaro’s hand he dropped it, and the stuff was spilled as the glass smashed on the floor.
“Never mind that; plenty more,” laughed Arlington. “Give him another geyser! Fill her up!”
Another glass of liquor was handed him, and he stepped in front of Dick, who was vainly trying to catch his eye.
“Oh, you’re a wonder, you are!” sneered Chet. “You think you can make me obey you just when you want to, but I know you. I know better than to let you catch me this time. Here, you, drink—hang you, drink!”
He bent over and held the glass to Dick’s lips.
“Drink!” he again snarled.