Madison plunged into the cab with a whooping laugh, dragging Diamond after him, robbing Jack for the time of some of his dignity. Herrick politely held the door while Frank got in, coming last himself. The door slammed, and away went the cab.
Herrick offered cigars. Madison took one and Diamond followed suit. Merry was on the verge of refusing, but changed his mind and accepted one. Then Herrick struck a match and held it solicitously for Merry to start his cigar.
“I think I’ll take a dry smoke,” said Frank. “Anyhow, I’ll not light up now.”
“Hold steady!” cried Madison, plunging the end of his weed into the flame and beginning to puff at it.
Diamond also lighted his cigar, and Herrick joined them, observing:
“You’ll find the smoke rather thick, Mr. Merriwell, if you don’t fire up.”
They were on Fifth Avenue, rolling northward. The theaters were out, and cabs and hansoms were thick on the avenue, taking home those who had visited the different playhouses. Their gleaming yellow lamps flitted hither and thither, blinking and vanishing and blinking into view again like huge fireflies. Pedestrians were plentiful. The night was clear and cool, with millions of white stars scattered over the blue vault of the sky. Madison began to sing.
“Stop it!” commanded Herrick.
“I’m offended,” declared the yellow-haired youth. “You are very rude, Charley. I want to warble; I long to warble; I must warble! There is a pent-up warble within me, and I must let it forth. I long to sing some sad, sweet thing like ‘Down Went McGinty,’ or ‘Little Annie Rooney.’”
“If you get into this condition so early, you’ll be in nice shape to buck the tiger,” said Herrick. “My boy, I’m afraid you are loaded.”