The Telegraph Boy Part 20

"I've been here two hours. What does your friend look like?"

"That's his picture," said Frank, displaying the photograph.

"Oh, yes," said his new acquaintance, "he is here now. His name is Fred, isn't it?"

"Yes," answered Frank, eagerly; "I don't see him. Where is he?"

"He's playing cards upstairs, but I don't believe he can tell one card from the other."

"Been drinking, I suppose," said Frank, betraying no surprise.

"I should say so. Do you know the fellows he's with?"

"I am not sure about that. How long has Fred been upstairs?"

"About an hour. He was playing billiards till he couldn't stand straight, and then they went upstairs."

"Would you mind telling him that there is a friend downstairs who wishes to see him, that is, if you know the way?"

"Oh, yes, I live here. Won't you come up with me?"

"Perhaps I had better," said Frank, and followed his companion through a door in the rear, and up a dark and narrow staircase to the street floor.

"It'll be a hard job to get him away," thought Frank; "but, for his mother's sake, I will do my best."

CHAPTER XIII.

A TIMELY RESCUE.

As Frank entered the room he hastily took in the scene before him. Round a table sat three young men, of not far from twenty, the fourth side being occupied by Fred Vivian. They were playing cards, and sipping drinks as they played. Fred Vivian's handsome face was flushed, and he was nervously excited. His hands trembled as he lifted the gla.s.s, and his wandering, uncertain glances showed that he was not himself.

"It's your play, Fred," said his partner.

Fred picked up a card without looking at it, and threw it down on the table.

"That settles it," said another. "Fred, old boy, you've lost the game.

You're another five dollars out."

Fred fumbled in his pocket for a bill, and it was quickly taken from his hand before he could well see of what value it was. Frank, however, quickly as it was put away, saw that it was a ten. It was clear that Fred was being cheated in the most barefaced manner.

Frank's entrance was evidently unwelcome to most of the company.

"What are you bringing in that boy for, John?" demanded a low-browed fellow, with a face like a bull-dog.

"He is a friend of Fred," answered John.

"He's a telegraph boy. He comes here a spy. Fred don't know him. Clear out, boy!"

Frank took no notice of this hostile remark, but walked up to Fred Vivian.

"Fred," said he, thinking it best to speak as if he knew him, "it is getting late, and your mother is anxious about you. Won't you come home with me?"

"Who are you?" asked Fred, with drunken gravity. "You aint my mother."

"I come from your mother. Don't you know me? I am Frank Kavanagh."

"How do, Frank? Glad to see you, ol' feller. Take a drink. Here, you boy, bring a drink for my frien', Frank Kavanagh."

The three others looked on disconcerted. They were not ready to part with Fred yet, having secured only a part of his money.

"You don't know him, Fred," said the one who had appropriated the ten-dollar bill. "He's only a telegraph boy."

"I tell you he's my frien', Frank Kav'nagh," persisted Fred, with an obstinacy not unusual in one in his condition.

"Well, if he is, let him sit down, and have a gla.s.s of something hot."

"No, I thank you," said Frank, coldly. "Fred and I are going home."

"No, you're not," exclaimed the other, bringing his fist heavily down upon the table. "We won't allow our friend Fred to be kidnapped by a boy of your size,--not much we won't, will we, boys?"

"No! no!" chimed in the other two.

Fred Vivian looked at them undecided.

"I guess I'd better go," he stammered "There's something the matter with my head."

"You need another drink to brace you up. Here, John, bring up another punch for Fred."

Frank saw that unless he got Fred away before drinking any more, he would not be in a condition to go at all. It was a critical position, but he saw that he must be bold and resolute.

"You needn't bring Fred anything more," he said. "He has had enough already."

"I have had enough already," muttered Fred, mechanically.

"Boys, are we going to stand this?" said the low-browed young man. "Are we going to let this telegraph boy interfere with a social party of young gentlemen? I move that we throw him downstairs."

He half rose as he spoke, but Frank stood his ground.

"You'd better not try it," he said quietly, "unless you want to pa.s.s the night in the station-house."

"What do you mean, you young jackanapes?" said the other angrily. "What charge can you trump up against us?"

"You have been cheating Fred out of his money," said Frank, firmly.

"It's a lie! We've been having a friendly game, and he lost. If we'd lost, we would have paid."