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

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Herrick was the older of the two, and the possessor of the black mustache. Madison had a smooth, almost boyish face, with a head of curly yellow hair. Frank took an instant dislike to Herrick, who had the air of a rounder. Madison seemed more like a rather gay young fellow, although there was a dissipated look on his face and his eyes met Frank’s with an effort.

Frank could see that these men had been drinking, although Herrick gave little evidence of it. The latter shook hands politely, simply repeating Frank’s name; but Madison grasped Merry’s hand, crying:

“Glad to know you, Mr. Merriwell. Glad to know anybody who is Jack Diamond’s friend. Let’s have a drink.”

“Steady, Billy,” warned Herrick, in a low tone. “Don’t slop over, my boy.”

“Oh, to blazes with that!” returned Madison, laughing. “What do we care? We’re out for a time, and we don’t give a rap who knows it. Let’s all go in and take a drink.”

“We haven’t time,” asserted the man with the black mustache, looking at his watch.

“Time! Great Scott! we’ve got all the time there is! Don’t anybody own any of my time till ten o’clock to-morrow.”