He did, for a fact. That same evening, just before tattoo, Mark felt a grip upon his arm that made him wince. He turned and found it was his friend, a look of misery upon his face that went to the other's heart.
"Look a-yere, old man," he pleaded. "Won't you—oh, for Heaven's sake, tell me what's the matter?"
"I don't mind telling you," responded Mark, slowly. "You have behaved yourself as no gentleman should, and as no friend of mine shall!"
"I!" cried Texas, in amazement. "I! What on earth have I done?"
"Done!" echoed Mark. "Didn't you go off and get drunk? For shame, Texas!"
Texas was too dumfounded to say a word. He could only stare and gasp. Here was a state of affairs indeed!
"Yes!" chimed in Dewey, approaching at this moment. "And you nearly killed dozens of people, too. Mark was within an ace of being dismissed; and as for you! why, you'd have been fired long ago if Mark hadn't pleaded for hours with the superintendent!"
Texas turned his wondering eyes upon Dewey then. He was fairly choking with amazement.
"Do you mean to say," he gasped at last, "that you fellows are mad with me because I got drunk?"
"Exactly," responded Mark.