He succeeded better with Mark, his crafty nature teaching him how to approach him.

“Mark,” he said, with a great show of cordiality, “I am delighted to hear of your good fortune.  I always liked you, and I think you deserve to be rich.”

“Thank you!” said Mark, much gratified, for he liked flattery.  “I am sure I am very much obliged to you.”

“Oh, not at all!  I only say what I think.  Shall I tell you why I am particularly glad?”

“Yes, if you like,” returned Mark, in some curiosity.

“Because I like you better than that young muff, your stepbrother.  I hope you won’t be offended at my plain speaking,” he added, artfully.

“Certainly not!” said Mark.

“I suppose,” said James, “you will see a little life now that you are your own master and have plenty of money.”

“I don’t know exactly what you mean, James.  There isn’t much life to be seen in Bridgeville.”

“That is true; but still there is some.  Suppose now”—­by this time they were in front of the saloon, which, besides a bar, contained a billiard and pool table—­“suppose now we go in and have a game of billiards.”

“It’s against the rules, isn’t it?” asked Mark.

“What do you care for the rules?” said James, contemptuously.

“If the old man hears of it, we shall get into hot water.”

By the “old man” Mark meant the Rev. Dr. Brush, the venerable and respected principal of the Bridgeville Academy, but such boys as he have very little respect for the constituted authorities.

“Why need he know it?  We will slip in when no one is looking.  Did you ever play a game of billiards?”

“I never played over half a dozen games in my life.”

“Yon ought to know how to play.  It is a splendid game.  Come in.”

Mark did not make very strong opposition, and the two boys, first looking cautiously in different directions, entered the saloon.

Toward the entrance was a bar, and in the roar of the saloon were two tables.

“Won’t you have a drink, Mark?” asked James.

Mark hesitated.

“Oh, come now, it won’t hurt.  Two glasses of whisky, John.”

“All right, Mr. Carson,” said the barkeeper, to whom James was well known.

James tossed off his glass with the air of an old drinker, but Mark drank his more slowly.

“There, I know you feel better, Mark.”

“Now, John, give me the balls.  We’ll play a game of billiards.”

“All right, sir.”

“I’ll discount you, Mark,” said James, “to give you a fair chance.  It is about the same thing as giving you half the game.  Or, if you like, I will give you seventeen points to start with, and then you will only have seventeen to make, while I am making thirty-four.”

“I like that best.”

“Now shall we play for the drinks?”

“We have just had a drink?”