“I am sure he is,” said Wrenn. “You can look right across from this room to his windows in Sibley. His shades were down close all last evening, and he doesn’t usually lower them, even when he’s dressing.”
“Tompkins’s conduct is beyond me,” said Melvin. “He seemed as indignant as any of us when the story came out, but I’ve seen him twice in the last two days hanging around with that gambler, as friendly as if he had known him for years.”
“I thought Tommy was a pretty decent fellow,” mused Varrell. “There’s no counting on these wild Westerners.”
“Well, what do you think?” questioned Dick, returning to the matter that had brought him over to Hale. “Are we bound to sit quietly and see Bosworth play his faro tricks on these little fellows? The next step will be to get them all in debt to him, and then he can keep bleeding them as they have money by promising them a chance to get even again.”
“And that’s not all,” said Varrell; “they’ll have to write lies to their families in order to get extra money to pay up with; and when they get used to lying about one thing, they’ll lie about another, and keep on lying till there’s no truth left in them. A little kid that’s tough is about the meanest and most pitiable individual you can find. He goes down hill like a ball rolling down an inclined plane,—friction disregarded.” The terms of physics occurred naturally to Varrell, who took especial delight in the study.
“Suppose we talk to the boys,” said Melvin, tentatively.
“It would probably do no good. The little fools don’t know enough to take advice.”
“Then we must deal directly with Bosworth,” said Melvin, decisively. “It’s an awfully unpleasant job to tackle,—makes you feel as if you were interfering in another fellow’s private affairs, and setting yourself up to be better than any one else; but the thing must be stopped.”
Varrell nodded in grave approval. “There’s nothing else to be done, and you’re the man for the job.”
“Why not you?” asked Dick, shortly.