“He did,” said Allan, quietly. “I saw him.”
“Ye did!” cried Jack. “I hope ye did fer him!”
“Why, Jack,” protested Allan, “the poor fellow’s nearly dead with consumption. He’s on his way to Parkersburg to look for work. He says he wants a chance to earn an honest living.”
“He told ye that, did he? An’ was ye fool enough t’ set there with your mouth open an’ gulp it all down? I give ye credit fer more sense than that!”
Allan reflected that Nolan certainly had lied about his unwillingness to steal a ride. And the figure he had seen that morning vanishing through the door of the Byers station recurred to him.
“I did believe it,” he admitted finally. "He looked so sick and weak that I couldn’t help but pity him."
“Pity a toad!” said Jack, contemptuously. “Pity a snake! An’ he’s a thousand times wuss ’n any snake! He’s jest waitin’ fer a good chance t’ bite!”
“Well, I’ll take care he doesn’t get the chance,” Allan assured him, and clambered aboard the train at the sharp “all aboard!” of the conductor.
The more he thought over the circumstances of Nolan’s appearance the night before, the more strongly was he inclined to believe that Jack’s warning was not without reason. Nolan, perhaps, hoped to put him off his guard, to catch him napping, and then, in some underhanded way, to “get even.”
“Well, he sha’n’t do that,” murmured Allan to himself. “I’ll keep my eyes open. And if Mr. Nolan is up to any such little game, I think he’ll get the worst of it.”