“I’ve had a lovely time to-night,” whispered Jack still to himself; “but something tells me that I had better fade away. Here is where I fade.”
He managed to escape from the shed, round which he stole, making off into the gloom. At a distance, watching the men near the shed, stood a lonely figure. Jack drew near and saw it was Bertrand Defarge.
A little farther on Ready came upon another man, who seemed to be watching Defarge. It was Hock Mason.
“Hello, Mason!” exclaimed Ready. “Why art thou not wrapped in the arms of old Morpheus? At this witching hour you should be snoring sweetly.”
“I’ve been watching him,” said Mason, motioning toward Defarge.
“Because I feared he might commit suicide before morning.”
“He was pretty wild last night. I saw him trying to drink absinth.”
“That’s the strange part of it. I can’t tell why. He was crazy for a drink of the stuff, but the odor of it seemed to make him weak and helpless. Then, when he tried to lift the glass quickly and drink it off without stopping, the glass fell from his fingers just before it reached his lips. Three times he tried it, and three times he dropped the glass, which was shattered on the floor.”
“He must have found that drink expensive when he did get it.”
“He gave up in despair. He paid for all the stuff, declaring that Merriwell’s eyes had kept him from drinking. Then, in a sort of frenzy, he rushed out of the place. I thought he might do himself harm, and I followed him up. From place to place he went, trying everywhere to get the stuff. When he did get it and tried to drink it, the same thing happened to him again and again. I tell you he became desperate. Then he got out into the night and tore away. I followed him up, meaning to try to prevent in case he attempted to drown himself. I think he did have some such thoughts.”
“Mason,” said Ready, putting a hand on the shoulder of the man from the South, “I have always regarded you as a fellow with horse sense.”
“But I find,” Jack gravely added, “that I have made a mistake. You are a chump.”
“Any man who will contemplate getting wet to prevent Bertrand Defarge from committing suicide is a chump,” Ready gravely declared.
Mason was angry, but he saw something in the face of the queer sophomore that prevented him from losing control of his temper.