"Simp," said he, taking the red-headed youth by the lapel of his coat, "a word in your private ear."
He looked all around to make sure that there was no one within hearing, and then fastened his eyes sternly upon the face of the boy before him.
"Simp," said Gus, "did you ever read the fable of a man who found a torpid adder, or some other kind of a serpent, and took it home with him and warmed it, and after he had restored it to life the serpent turned on him and bit him?"
"Oh, now, that doesn't apply to me," said Simpson, fairly shaking in his boots.
"I have been good to you, haven't I?"
"Yes, you have."
"I took you in hand and made friends for you when none of the other fellows would have anything to do with you, because of that tongue of yours—didn't I?"
"Yes, you did."
"Simp, there's a traitor about here somewhere, and I am looking for him. If I can find him I'll—I'll—"
"Well, you can just look farther," whined Simpson, growing more and more alarmed, for he had never seen Gus so utterly overcome with rage as he was at that moment. "You don't see any traitor in me, I can tell you."