“We’ve had bad luck,” was the disconsolate reply; “we’ve been robbed of all our money.”
“And are goin’ to hoof it back?”
“That’s what we’ll have to do, but we mean to take a new start.”
“How did this unfortinit misfortune come to overtake ye?”
Tommy gave the history of their mishap, the two tramps listening with much interest.
“This is my friend, Ragged Jim,” said Sam, when the narrative was finished, “and he’s true blue.”
Ragged Jim nodded his head and grunted, without taking the black clay pipe from between his teeth, while Snakeroot Sam munched his sandwich at intervals.
“So you’ve no money with you?”
“Not a dollar,” replied Tommy.
“How ’bout your shootin’ irons?”