“Hold on, Jack!” cried Frank Miner, the small man. “I say—easy there! You’ll have apoplexy or something—I say—”
“Don’t speak to a man on his drink, Frank,” said Bright, calmly. “When I drove cattle in the Nacimiento Valley we used to shoot for that.”
“I shall avoid that place,” answered Miner.
Ralston drew a long breath as he set down the empty glass.
“I wanted that,” he said, half to himself. “Hallo, Frank—is that you? What will you have?”
“Nothing—now—thank you,” answered Miner. “I’ve satisfied my thirst and cured my tendency to vice by seeing you take that down. You’re a beautiful sight and an awful example for a thirsty man. Get photographed, Jack—they could sell lots of copies at temperance meetings. Heard the story about the temperance tracts? Stop me if you have. Man went out to sell teetotal tracts in Missouri. Came back and his friends were surprised to see him alive. ‘Never had such a good time in my life,’ said he. ‘Every man to whom I offered a tract pulled out a pistol and said, “Drink or I’ll shoot.” And here I am.’ There’s a chance for you, Jack, when you get stuck.”
Bright and Ralston laughed at the little man’s story and all three turned and left the bar-room together.
“Seen the old gentleman lately?” enquired Frank Miner, as they came out upon the pavement.
“Do you mean uncle Robert?” asked Bright.
“Yes—cousin Robert, as we call him.”