"It's likely I'd back out of anything that's moving, isn't it?" Reade demanded, offended. "I don't mind any disagreeable business that we may run into. But I feel like a fool when I think of the message we'll have to take back to that poor woman and baby."
"Tom Drake will deliver the message to them," replied Dick, firmly.
"If he's sober even now," murmured Danny Grin, uneasily.
"I'm strong for the task!" declared Dave Darrin, with enthusiasm.
"So would I be," Tom defended himself, "if I thought that even a night of fighting would result in anything like success. But——-"
"Better stop right here, then," Prescott, suggested, smiling earnestly.
But neither of Dick's companions stopped.
They were walking briskly, now. As they had been told, Miller's was the first place on the right hand side, where the business street of Fenton began. It had been a tavern in the old days, and was still a big and roomy structure.
Yet there was no mistaking the room in which the object of their quest was to be found. The door of the saloon opened repeatedly while the boys stood regarding the place.
Dick stepped over to a man who had just come out.
"Is Tom Drake in there?" Dick asked.