Poor Hoke was scared almost out of his wits. He began fumbling in his pockets.
“How much is the charge? I haven’t got more’n two or three dollars with me.”
“In that case, it will take all and that ere watch which I persoom is tied to t’other end of the chain dangling in front.”
“Why that would be robbery!” exclaimed the lad, indignant at the impending outrage.
“I wouldn’t call it that, younker; rayther it’s the toll yer hef to pay for crossin’ this bridge. So yer may as well shell out first as last.”
As Hoke stood, his back was against the side of the wooden wall over which he had just tumbled, with the tramp scowling and malignant, facing him. Thus, as will be noted, Biggs was on the side of the structure up which Mike Murphy had climbed so silently that no one heard him. Hoke in fact began to rally from his panic and was on the point of shouting for help when he saw the end of Mike’s buckthorn cane, gripped in his left hand, slide up into view, instantly followed by the hat and red, freckled countenance of the Irish youth, who remained motionless for a moment, while he peered at the curious picture below him.
Before Hoke could utter the glad words on his tongue, Mike shook his head as a warning for him to hold his peace. The other caught on and did not look directly at his friend, but straight into the face of the tousled scamp. Mike was so clearly in his field of vision that Hoke saw every movement and even the expression of the face which was never more welcome.
The next instant one knee of Mike rested on the topmost log, then the foot slid over and he perched firmly on the top with his shillaleh transferred to his right hand.
The sight of his friend heartened Hoke.
“You can’t have my watch and chain, and I sha’n’t give you a penny! You have no more right here than I, and you daresen’t lay a hand on me.”