"I know you, Bill Jones," said the policeman, after a careful scrutiny of the man's features. "You're a hard ticket. Come along with me. You two must go with me to prefer your charge."
"Let me have your arm, my boy," said the young man; "I'm ashamed to own that I need your help. It is the last time I will allow liquor to get the better of me."
"I guess you're about right there," said Tony. "You've had a narrow escape."
"I owe my life to you," said the young man, warmly. "How did you happen to come up just in the nick of time?"
"I suspected the man meant you no good. I followed you from the billiard saloon, where I saw you playing."
"You were sharper than I. I never suspected harm. You have done me the greatest possible service."
"Curse the young brat!" muttered the man in custody. "I'd like a good chance to wring your neck."
"I've no doubt of it," said Tony. "I'll keep out of your way."
The station house was not far off. The party entered. The charge was formally made, and Tony and the young man went out.
"Won't your father and mother feel anxious about your being out so late?" asked George Spencer, for this was the young man's name.