"I hope you ain't one of them temperance sneaks," said Jack, his brow clouding in anticipation of a refusal.
"I assure you I am not," Peabody hastened to say. "I have participated in convivial scenes more than once in Boston."
"I don't understand college talk," said Jack; "but if you want a glass of prime whiskey, just say the word."
"I don't care if I do," said Peabody, following his new friend into the saloon.
The draught of prime whiskey scorched his throat as he swallowed it down, but it was followed by a sense of exhilaration, and Peabody's tongue was loosened.
"You're a gentleman!" said Missouri Jack. "You ain't like them fellows you're with. They're sneaks."
"Really, you compliment me, Mr.—, what may I call your name?"
"Missouri Jack—that's the peg I hang on to."
"My dear Mr. Jack, I am glad to know you. You are really quite an accession to our settlement."
"Well, if I ain't, my saloon is. How you've managed to live so long without liquor beats me. Why, it ain't civilized."