"I want to help you make a man of yourself," asserted Mr. Gates, unmoved by the boy's passion. "It's true I want you to go back to the school, but I will go with you and speak for you. You must go back because it is the only right way out. Let me tell you, Glen, you will never get over a trouble by running away from it. The manly and Christian thing to do is to go back. And that is why I want you to do it."
"And of course you don't want the reward of ten dollars that's always paid for returning a boy. You wouldn't take the money, would you?"
If the eyes of Mr. Gates were saddened by this mean sneer those of Mr. J. Jervice were not. They lightened with a sudden interest, and he jumped into the battle for the first time.
"This boy's a goin' with me," he told Mr. Gates. "He's earned a ride and I promised it and I'm a man of my word. You be off, now, and leave him alone."
"You are spoiling his best chance," said Mr. Gates. "I am not interested in the school or the reward. I am simply trying to do my duty to the boy."
"Well, you've done it," cried Mr. J. Jervice, as his car gathered headway. "Good-by to ye."
He turned to Glen as the car got into its speed.
"So you've run away from the reform school, eh? And he was goin' to make ten dollars taking you back?"
"Oh, he didn't want the ten dollars," said Glen, his rage all gone. "He treated me awful fine while I was at his house. I just said that because I was mad. But he can't get me to go back; nor nobody else unless they tie me up first."
"I don't know?" said Mr. J. Jervice. "Ten dollars is pretty near a week's pay for most men."