“I told you he didn’t drink!” Diamond somewhat petulantly cried. “What’s the use to keep asking him, Charley?”
“But I have decided to take a drink this time,” said Frank, causing the Virginian to nearly collapse. “Barkeeper, I’ll take a gin.”
Frank had decided that Jack Diamond was in danger. He could not understand how the Virginian happened to be in New York, and in such a condition. No more could he understand the familiar friendship of Diamond and his two companions. Jack was not a fellow to pick up friends anywhere, and get on “first-name terms” with them in short order.
Ordinarily, Merriwell’s influence over Diamond was complete, but now he had failed in his attempt to take the Southerner from these companions and carry him away to a place where he could be brought round to reason. Having failed thus, Merry quickly decided to stay with Jack and see what was going on. He knew he would be an object of suspicion to Herrick and Madison unless they fancied he was drinking with them, and in order to divert their attention he agreed to take a drink.
But Frank had no intention of swallowing a drop of liquor. He had chosen gin because, in past experiences, he had discovered that, being the color of water, it was easy to make companions believe the gin had been taken when, in fact, the water “chaser” was the only thing swallowed.
“Hoo—yee!” whooped Madison, in delight, slapping Diamond on the shoulder. “There goes your total abstainer, Jack! He’s going to take his medicine like a little man.”
The Southerner looked at Frank in half-intoxicated reproach.
“Don’t do it, Merry!” he exclaimed huskily. “You’re too good a man to meddle with booze. Don’t do it!”
“Well, you’re a dandy to be giving advice!” shouted Madison. “Oh, quit your kidding and corral your mint julep!”
“Please be good enough to quit that, sah!” said Diamond, with a touch of his original Southern accent. “I am talking to my particular friend, and I’ll thank you not to interfere, sah.”