They gave their orders, which were soon filled by the attentive servants. Herrick took pains to order plenty of wine; but, to his surprise, he suddenly found that Frank Merriwell would not drink.
Frank had a reason, for now it would not be easy for him to lead his companions into believing he had drunk the same as the others. They did not know that he had not touched a drop, and he had accomplished his purpose in keeping close to Jack Diamond and watching Herrick.
It was useless for Herrick to urge; Frank could not be moved.
“That’s right, Merriwell!” exclaimed the Virginian. “You keep sober and let me do the drinking for both of us.”
Madison, too, hastened to put away a bottle of wine, and the color began to come back to his face.
“Didn’t know I had so little nerve,” he said. “Been cold ever since that chap pulled the gun and tried to blow the top of his head off.”
“Oh, hang a welcher!” sneered Herrick. “His squealing made me sick! But it’s lucky Mr. Merriwell grabbed him just as he did. Canfield ought to thank him for that.”
“I ask no thanks from Canfield,” said Frank coldly.
“Don’t talk about it!” implored Madison.
Herrick was cool, but it became plain that his declaration that he was hungry had not been true, for he ate only a few mouthfuls. Frank ate more, but Diamond seemed in a hurry to get back to the gaming-room. Madison was strangely troubled, sometimes flushing, only to pale again.