"
"This wine is weak. It wouldn't hurt a baby."
"I would rather not drink," said Ben.
"Ain't you goin' a little too fur, Ben?" remonstrated Bradley. "Your
father meant rum and whisky and sich. He wouldn't mind wine."
"Yes, he would," said Ben, resolutely. "I had an uncle who died a
drunkard, and it was that that made my father so particular. I
promised him faithfully, and now that he's dead, I can't break my
work to him."
"The boy's right, Jack," said Bradley. "It won't hurt you and me,
but if he don't want to drink, we won't press him."
"It's blasted nonsense!" exclaimed Jack angrily. "The boy's puttin'
on airs, that's what's the matter."
"He's a good boy," said Bradley. "You don't know him as well as I
do."
"Jest as you say," muttered Jack, in a dissatisfied tone. "If you
want to go to bed now, you can."
"I'm ready, for one," said Bradley, rising with, alacrity. "I'm
powerful sleepy." "Come in, then." They followed their host into the
cabin.
CHAPTER XVII.
A TIGHT PLACE.
The lower part of the cabin was divided into two rooms, over which
was a loft. There was no staircase; but there was a short ladder by
which the ascent was made.
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