“No, sir!” declared Bill, quite indignantly, “I wouldn’t play a mean trick like that on you, Tom Barnes. I’ve got nothing against you. In fact, ever since you spoke up for me at the trial, I’ve—well, Tom,” stammered Bill, a little sheepishly, “I’ve tried to remember what you said about giving me a chance to make a man of myself, and I—I hope I’m doing it.”
“Good for you, Bill Barber!” cried Tom heartily. “I’m proud of you, to hear you talk like that.”
“It was some of my old gang hired out to trim you. I’ve thrashed the whole kit of them for doing it, and they won’t trouble you again, never fear.”
“You’re a good friend, Bill,” declared Tom. “Did you say you were working?”
“Yes, but not steady,” answered Bill. “I get odd jobs running small launches for the resorters down at Sea Grove. Had a trip or two for that young Boston cad, who is hanging around with Mart Walters. Huh! he brags about what lots of money he’s got, and he hasn’t paid me for my work yet. I’ll get it, though, or take it out of his hide,” declared Bill, ominously. “I say, Tom, he’s a bad one, and Mart Walters is worse. Look out for them.”
“I shall, Bill, and thank you for your good wishes and help. Any time I can return the favor call on me as a real friend.”
Bill Barber departed with a pleased face, and Tom was not sorry for the chance to help a fellow whom he decided had lots of good in him, if rightly encouraged.
In about half an hour a message came from headquarters. It had the “sine” of the superintendent.
“Good work,” it commended. “Parties interested notified. Man on steamer fugitive forger wanted by the Government. Probably a reward case.”
Tom felt that he was progressing finely in his work. So far, application and straightforward devotion to duty had enabled him to perform his duties without a censure, and to avoid snares set for his downfall.