"
"You must blame that on your moderate men, who see no danger and
go blind with their party," answered Lyon. "We have looked the
evil in the face, and know its direful quality."
"Come! I would like to talk with you, Mr. Lyon."
Mr. Hargrove, his son, and Mr. Lyon went out together. As they
left the room, Frank Slade said:
"What a cursed liar and hypocrite he is!"
"Who?" was asked.
"Why, Lyon," answered Frank, boldly.
"You'd better say that to his face."
"It wouldn't be good for him," remarked one of the company.
At this Frank started to his feet, stalked about the room, and put
on all the disgusting airs of a drunken braggart. Even his father
saw the ridiculous figure he cut, and growled out:
"There, Frank, that'll do. Don't make a miserable fool of
yourself!"
At which Frank retorted, with so much of insolence that his father
flew into a towering passion, and ordered him to leave the bar-
room.
"You can go out yourself if you don't like the company. I'm very
well satisfied," answered Frank.
"Leave this room, you impudent young scoundrel!"
"Can't go, my amiable friend," said Frank, with a cool self-
possession that maddened his father, who got up hastily, and moved
across the bar-room to the place where he was standing.
"Go out, I tell you!" Slade spoke resolutely.
"Would be happy to oblige you," Frank said, in a taunting voice;
"but, 'pon my word, it isn't at all convenient."
Half intoxicated as he was, and already nearly blind with passion,
Slade lifted his hand to strike his son.
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