"Then I'll make you!"
"You'll make me? Come, that's pretty good! That's rich, that is! Ha! You'll make me, young feller? Why it'll take more'n you to make me do what I don't want to do."
"I fancy not," said Tom easily, and with a cautious movement he advanced a step nearer the tramp. The latter did not appear to notice it.
"Well, what else do you want?" asked the ragged fellow. "That's not sayin' I'm goin' to do what you asked me first, though," he sneered. His light was now flickering about on the rain-soaked ground, making little rings of illumination.
"Will you tell me how you got that scar on your cheek?" asked Tom suddenly.
Involuntarily the man's hand went to the evidence of the old wound. Up flashed the light into Tom's face again, and as it was held up there came this sharp question, asked with every evidence of fear:
"What—what do you know about that?"
"I know more than you think I do," said Tom, still speaking with a confidence he did not feel. Again he took a cautious step forward. He was now almost within leaping distance of the tramp.
"Well then, if you know so much there's no need of me telling you," sneered the ragged man. "I've had enough of this," he went on, speaking roughly. "I don't see why I should waste time talking to you in this confounded rain. I'm going to leave."
"Not until you answer me one more question," said Tom firmly, and he gathered himself together for that which he knew must follow.