THE REVENGE TALK AT MILLER'S
"Let's get out of this place," whispered Dick in Dave's ear as
Darry helped him to staunch the flow of blood from his nose.
"There, the bleeding has stopped," muttered Dave. "Now, put on your coat and button it up. Then the blood stains on your shirt won't show."
Tom Drake had very little to say, but he kept close to Prescott.
"Shall we walk down the road a bit, Mr. Drake?" asked Dick, as soon as he had his coat on.
"I'm in a hurry to get home," nodded the young workman. "I shall know where I belong, after this. No more of Miller's for me! For that matter," the young man added, with a hearty laugh, "I don't believe Miller would ever let me in his place again. Of course, in his own mind, he will blame me for what happened to-night."
"I hope he didn't get much of your money before it happened," murmured Prescott, as be and Drake, followed by Dave, Tom and Dan, got clear of the crowd and down into a quieter part of the road.
"He got less than a dollar of my wages," replied Drake. "I'm sorry he has that much, but he'll never get any more. Say, Prescott, but you are a fighter! I can imagine how 'sore' Miller will be, to-morrow, over having been whipped by such a stripling as you are."
"I've one great advantage over Miller," Dick rejoined. "I've never tasted alcohol, and Miller has saturated himself with it for years."
"I used to have an idea that liquor was strengthening," murmured Tom Drake. "I know quite a good many men who take it to keep up their strength."