The sight of money brings a strange light into certain eyes. The tramp’s were of that kind.
“You’re carrying too much money for a kid. Give me some more,” he said.
“Skiddoo! Hump yourself!” yelled Abe from a safe distance.
Clarence was looking hard at his new acquaintance. There was no mistaking the glint in the fellow’s eye. The beggar had developed into the highwayman.
“Excuse me!” said Clarence, and turning tail he dashed down the track.
The tramp had a good pair of legs in excellent condition from much travel. He was quick to the pursuit.
“Run faster!” roared Abe, content to give advice. “He’s catching up.”
Clarence had a start of nearly ten yards; but before he had gone far, it grew clear to him that his pursuer was no mean runner. Nearer and nearer drew the tramp. The race could not last much longer.
Suddenly Clarence stopped, whirled around, and before his pursuer could realize the turn of events, plunged through the air, landing with both arms about the astounded man’s knees. The tramp went down with a suddenness to which few men are accustomed, and, assisted by a quick shove from the boy’s agile arm, started rolling from the tracks down an incline of some fifteen feet. By the time he had arisen to a sitting posture below and passed his hand over the several bruises on his head, the boy was back with Abe and lustily making his way up the hillside.
The tramp saw him, no more; but as he rose to resume his wearied journey, he heard a blithe voice far up the hillside carolling forth: