"I say, kid, we'll celebrate on that. Come in and have a drink."
They were passing a saloon, and Minton turned his steps towards it.
"No, thank you, Mr. Minton. I am not thirsty."
"Oh, hang it! Who cares whether you are thirsty or not? You ain't goin' to turn against a friend, are you?"
It was clear that Jack Minton had already satisfied his thirst two or three times, for his face was flushed and his step unsteady.
Mark saw that his refusal would make Minton angry, and he accepted his invitation.
"What will you have, kid?" asked Jack, staggering to the counter.
"A glass of sarsaparilla."
"Oh, don't have sarsaparilla? It's only fit for old women and young children. Take whisky."
"No; it must be sarsaparilla or nothing."