“Where’ll y’ run to?” asked the other boy, curiously.
“Somewhere,” replied Tom, mysteriously, “I know a place.”
“Where is it?” asked Dave, with interest. “What sort of a place—a job?”
“No” retorted Tom, with scorn. “Work be ’anged! No job fer me; I’m goin’ to take a ’oliday—I’ve urned it.”
The red-headed boy thought awhile.
“He’ll put the police on ter yer,” he said.
“Let ’im,” replied Tom, with great contempt; “the p’leese won’t find me where I’m goin’.”
“Where are y’ goin’ then?”
“Down the river a piece,” said Tom. “I know a place.”
“Down on the main river?” asked Dave.