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

62 страница из 68

“Not on your life!” cried Diamond, with a look of repugnance.

“Then you are all right. When a fellow gets so he feels that he must have a drink the first thing in the morning he is on the road to a drunkard’s grave. I’m glad to hear you say you do not want anything.”

“But I do want something,” groaned Jack.

“What is it?” Frank asked, in apprehension.

“I want to drink about a barrel of good cold water. I’d like to be backed up to a watering-trough.”

Frank rang for ice-water at once. When the boy brought it, Jack seized the pitcher and came near drinking its entire contents without pausing to take breath.

“Now I have a good tub of ice-cold water waiting for you,” said Frank.

“Great Scott!” gasped the Southerner, in horror. “I can take a cold bath when I am feeling all right, but I don’t believe I have the nerve for it this morning, old man. You’ll have to let me off.”

“It can’t be done. You must take your medicine, my boy. It’s just what you need.”

“Have you no mercy, Merriwell?”

“Not in a case like this. You do not deserve mercy.”