"What time was you goin' to take Dick?" inquired the landlord in a conciliatory tone.
"'Bout 7.20—time to catch the 8.10."
"Well, now, why can't you take this man along? You can go to the Diggings for Dick, and then"—pointing again at me—"you can drop him at the college and keep on to the station. 'Tain't much out of the way."
The driver scanned me closely and answered coldly:—
"Guess his kind don't want to mix in with Dick"—and started for the door.
"I have no objection," I answered meekly, "provided I can reach the lecture hall in time."
The driver halted, hit the spittoon squarely in the middle, and said with deep earnestness and with a slight trace of deference:—
"Guess you don't know it all, stranger. Dick's served time. Been up twice."
"Convict?"—my voice evidently betrayed my surprise.
"You've struck it fust time—last trip was for five years."