“What trick?” demanded Tom, innocently.
“Oh, you know well enough, you scamp! Think it’s smart to put off a cigar on me thet swells up and busts out worms! Bah! you keep your cigars to yourself after this.”
“All right, if you want me to,” answered Tom, meekly, and then, watching his chance, he placed another of the “doctored” cigars in Ricks’ office, where he had a cigar box with tickets in it. Then he, with Jack Ness’ aid, loaded his fireworks and the small box of powder on the farm wagon.
As Tom worked he watched Ricks narrowly and saw the station agent enter his office to sell tickets. While he was making change he chanced to look into the cigar box with the tickets, and Tom, peeping through a crack of the door, saw him take up the cigar and look at it wonderingly.
“Hum!” murmured Ricks. “I thought that box was empty. Sallers must have left this in it when he gave it to me. That’s one on Bob. Guess I’ll smoke it up before he comes an’ asks me about it.” The man he mentioned was a storekeeper of the vicinity, who had given him the cigar box the evening before.
Ricks struck a match and commenced to puff away with satisfaction. By this time the wagon was loaded and Tom directed Jack Ness to drive off to the bridge and wait for him.
“Well, good-bye, Mr. Ricks,” said the fun-loving youth, as he stepped up to the ticket window. “Hope you don’t hold any hard feelings.”
“You quit your foolin’!” growled the station master.
“I see you’re smoking another cigar.”
“What if I am? Ain’t I got a right to smoke if I want to?”