Meanwhile, Brandon had gone to the tavern, which he entered with a swagger, and immediately called for a glass of whisky.
The barkeeper hesitated.
"My orders are not to sell on credit," he said.
"Who wants you to sell on credit?" asked Brandon haughtily.
"You had no money last night."
"I've got some now. What do you say to that?" and he displayed the five-dollar bill he had received from Phil Courtney.
"That alters the case," said the barkeeper complaisantly. "Your money is as good as anybody's."
"I should say so. Give me another."
When Brandon left the barroom, he had spent a dollar, having drunk himself and treated others.
"Wonder if Grit has found out about his boat?" he said to himself, with a waggish smile, as he walked homeward with unsteady steps. "Serves the boy right for treating me so disrespectfully."