Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Trust; Or, Never Say Die онлайн

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“Well, perhaps I ought to thank God for that,” muttered the Southerner. “But I’ve introduced you to my friend, and I give you my word he’s all right. You have the run of that place, and you can make it right there.”

“Yes; but you know I am held responsible if anything unpleasant happens.”

Frank had leaned against the rail of the bar. Herrick drew Diamond aside, and at this moment one of the barkeepers touched Merry on the elbow, saying in a low tone:

“Are you Frank Merriwell, of Yale, the athlete I’ve read so much about in the papers?”

“I presume I am the same,” answered Merry.

“Then I want to give you a tip, but don’t ever let out that I did so. Look out for yourself to-night if you chase that gang and keep your money in your pocket. That’s all.”

“Thank you,” nodded Merry quietly. “I’ll take your advice.”

“Don’t drink too much.”

“No danger. You threw out the gin I called for both times; I drank the water.”

The barkeeper looked surprised.

“Well,” he gasped, “I didn’t tumble to that. I guess you’re all right.”