Dick's head was still dizzy, so he could not catch the import of the professor's words. He continued to work over Tom, who just then opened his eyes.
"Gi—give me a—a drink!" murmured poor Tom. His throat seemed to be on fire.
"Not another drop!" shouted Professor Sharp. "Not one! This is disgraceful! Look at what they have been drinking already!" And he pointed to the bottles scattered around.
"Say! What's the matter with you?" asked Sam, sleepily and angrily. He was doing his best to pull his wits together, and thus overcome the effects of the strange vapor.
"There is nothing the matter with me!" roared Professor Sharp. "The matter is with you, Rover. You have been drinking too much."
"Me? Drinking?" stammered Sam. "No, sir!"
"Rover, you may as well admit it," came from Professor Blackie. "It is a sad state of affairs."
"But I haven't been drinking."
"We know better. Look at the evidence!" roared Abner Sharp, pointing to the bottles. "Why, your very clothing smells of rum!" he added, smelling of Dick's shoulder.
"Sam has told you the truth. We haven't been drinking," said Dick.
