Merry was invited in, and he accepted the invitation. He was given an introduction to the ticket seller, and then Haley asked him into a little room adjoining the office.

“I’ve struck a man this morning to fill Storms’ place,” he said, “and now, if we can make arrangements, the company will be all right again.”

“Did the officers arrest Storms?” asked Frank.

“No. He got away, but he’s broke, and they’ll get him all right, unless he counts the ties.”

“Counts the ties?”

“Yes; walks out of town on the railroad. I’m glad to be rid of him. He made a good ‘Legree,’ but he was a quarrelsome fellow, always kicking up a fuss. He made more trouble in the company than all the others put together.”

The manager opened a little closet door and took out a bottle and glasses. He placed a glass before Frank on the table that served as a desk, and then shoved the bottle toward Merry.

“Help yourself,” he urged. “I’ll get some water for chasers.”

“What is it?”

“Whisky—good whisky, too. Needn’t be afraid of it. Took particular pains to get good stuff.”

“I do not care for any,” said Frank.

“Eh? Don’t? What’s the matter?”

“I never drink whisky.”

“Singular! Young man, good color, full of life. Can’t be you prefer rum?”

“No, sir.”

“Brandy?”

“No. I do not drink.”

“Don’t drink? Why, you take something occasionally?”

“Never.”

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