“Merriwell,” he said solemnly, “a man is a thundering fool to drink!”
“It’s a good thing you’ve found that out,” smiled Frank. “But you want to remember it. Lots of men find it out, but they have a way of forgetting quickly.”
“I think this will do me very well,” declared Jack.
“Wouldn’t you like a big drink of whisky?” Merry asked.
“Not on your life!” cried Diamond, with a look of repugnance.
“Then you are all right. When a fellow gets so he feels that he must have a drink the first thing in the morning he is on the road to a drunkard’s grave. I’m glad to hear you say you do not want anything.”
“But I do want something,” groaned Jack.
“What is it?” Frank asked, in apprehension.
“I want to drink about a barrel of good cold water. I’d like to be backed up to a watering-trough.”
Frank rang for ice-water at once. When the boy brought it, Jack seized the pitcher and came near drinking its entire contents without pausing to take breath.