"I sure did, and he's coming to see you soon."
This was more and different news, and Tom and his chum did not know how to take it. But Tom had another card he wanted to play.
Stepping toward the fellow the young inventor took him by one shoulder and, giving him a shake, exclaimed sternly:
"Never mind about Cunningham! Send Floyd Barton to me!"
Tom had determined to try the effect of this name.
To his surprise, it did not upset the man in the least. He leered at Tom and Ned with drunken gravity and mumbled:
"Barton's lucky—thash wha' he is! Lucky—hic—dog!"
"Lucky! What do you mean?" snapped out Tom.
"Mean he's goin' to marry a fine girl—thash wha' he ish! Lucky dog, Barton—Lucky—hic—dog!"
"Who's the girl?" asked Ned, more for the sake of giving his chum a chance to think up his next verbal attack than for any desire for information. "Do you know her?"