“Here, light up,” cried Tom, and produced a match.
“I’ll smoke after I git my ticket money counted up.”
“No, light up now,” said Tom, and struck the match. “I want you to get the benefit of that cigar at once. It’s a special brand and I am sure it will knock that dyspepsia higher than an airship.”
Ricks lit up as desired and took several long whiffs from the cigar.
“How do you like it?” questioned Tom, while Sam and Dick watched proceedings closely.
“Putty good,” returned the station master. The cigars had cost Tom ten cents each and they were better than those Ricks usually smoked.
A carriage had rolled up to the station and the boys saw Jack Ness coming towards them. He shook hands and then went off to get their trunks and bags, to be placed in a farm wagon driven by a neighbor’s boy.
Ricks entered his ticket office and then walked to the back platform of the station, where several farmers were congregated, sitting on some empty milk cans, talking crops. The boys continued to watch him.
“Hullo, where did ye get the smoke?” asked one of the farmers.
“Ricks is gittin’ high-toned,” said another. “Fust thing you know——”