"I wish he wouldn't gamble," said Tom. "He has the manners of a gentleman."
"Oh, everyone has to make his living at something," said the clerk, with a laugh. "And if he can't make his any easier than at gambling, why, I say let him keep at it. But you ought to have seen him with those dried apples! He talked them up so big among the passengers that he sold them for double the sum that I could have bought the same apples for. Oh, he's a good one!"
"I shouldn't think he would want to carry that money in his vest pocket," said Tom. "How easy it would be for somebody to knock him down and take it away from him."
"He's got a big revolver in his pocket," said the clerk.
During the rest of the trip to Memphis Tom stuck as close to Mr. Bolton's side as if he had grown there, and listened to some good advice, which, had he seen fit to follow it, would have made his progress through life a comparatively smooth one; but Tom could not get over the "gibes" which he knew his uncle would throw at him as often as he got angry. He said that was all that kept him from going back, and the gambler finally gave it up in despair.
On arriving at Memphis Mr. Bolton picked up his valise, bade good-by to some of the officers whose acquaintance he had made on the way up, and stepped ashore with Tom at his heels. The latter kept a close watch over the sharpers, and was not a little annoyed to find that they were going ashore, too. He called Mr. Bolton's attention to it, but all he got was a smile in return; and now, when Tom got a good view of it, he told himself that there was more self-confidence in that smile than he had given him credit for. Indeed, Mr. Bolton, with his overcoat on and a valise in his hand, and the free, swinging stride with which he stepped off, looked more like a prosperous business man than he did like anything else.
Mr. Bolton was evidently acquainted in Memphis, for he passed three or four clothing-houses, and finally turned into an extra fine one, where he said he wanted to see the longest and thickest overcoat they had. His boy was going away into a country where blizzards were plenty, and he desired to see him well protected before he went. The first garment that was handed down was a fit, and Tom stood by with it on, and saw Mr. Bolton buy another valise, an extra suit of sheep's-gray clothing, a couple of blue flannel shirts, and a number of other little things which Tom would not have thought of. When the articles had been paid for, Mr. Bolton took off his pin, wrapped it in a little piece of paper, and thrust it into one corner of the valise, then locked it and handed the key to Tom. Then he turned and walked out.
"Mr. Bolton," said Tom, hurrying after him, "I never can repay——"
"Oh, yes, you can. Whenever you meet a fellow that is hard up, and you can afford it, just hand him a dollar or two, and that will make it all right. Now, be careful of yourself on the way up. You'll find some lawless men there who won't hesitate to take the last cent you've got. Remember me to Black Dan, and don't forget what I have told you. Put it there. So long."
Tom wanted to say something else, but before he could form the words his hand had been squeezed for a moment and he was alone. He watched the man and then saw him disappear among the crowd.