ght you here?"

"Business," answered Mark briefly.

"They don't send telegraph boys as far as this, do they?"

"Well, not often, but I was sent here, and I came."

"What were you sent for?"

"That is my employer's business, and I don't feel at liberty to tell."

"Oh well, I ain't at all partic'lar to know. But it seems good to meet a
friend so far away."

"How long have I been his friend?" thought Mark.

"I say, kid, we'll celebrate on that. Come in and have a drink."

They were passing a saloon, and Minton turned his steps towards it.

"No, thank you, Mr. Minton. I am not thirsty."

"Oh, hang it! Who cares whether you are thirsty or not? You ain't goin'
to turn against a friend, are you?"

It was clear that Jack Minton had already satisfied his thirst two or
three times, for his face was flushed and his step unsteady.

Mark saw that his refusal would make Minton angry, and he accepted his
invitation.

"What will you have, kid?" asked Jack, staggering to the counter.

"A glass of sarsaparilla."

"Oh, don't have sarsaparilla? It's only fit for old women and young
children. Take whisky."

"No; it must be sarsaparilla or nothing."

"Just as you say. Barkeeper, give me some whisky straight, and give the
kid sarsaparilla if he wants it."

The orders were filled. Jack tossed down a glass of fiery whisky, which
made his face even redder than before, and then drawing from his pocket
a roll of bills, settled for both drinks.

Mark was surprised at the abundance of money his companion seemed to
have. When they met in New York Jack was very hard up, and had only
succeeded in obtaining twenty five-cents from his parsimonious aunt.

After drinking the whisky Jack sank into a chair, finding a sitting
position more comfortable under the circumstances.

"Have you seen your aunt lately, Mr. Minton?" Mark asked.

"Who's my aunt?" hiccoughed Jack, "I ain't got no aunt."

"I mean Mrs. Mack, the old lady who lives in St. Mark's place."

"I don't know anything about--'bout Mrs. Mack," answered Minton with a
cunning look. "What sh'd I know of Miss--Mrs. Mack?"

"She's your aunt, isn't she?"

"She used to be, but she's a bad old woman. I don't want to see her
again."

"She would be very glad to hear that," thought Mark.

"When did you come to Niagara?"

"I d'n'ow, do you? Don't ask me any more of your fool questions,"
answered Jack with uncontrollable irritation. "Did I pay you for the
drinks?" he asked, t