He was very impatient to know how much help—in other words, how much money—Oscar would be likely to give him; but, for the moment, his curiosity overcame his greediness. He wanted to hear all about that runaway.
CHAPTER IX.
TOM’S STORY.
“What was that runaway’s name?” asked Tom. “Was he from Eaton?”
“He was, and his name was Leon Parker,” replied Oscar. “He wasn’t satisfied with as comfortable a home and as kind a father and mother as any boy ever had, so he ran away and came out here to be a hunter.”
“Well, of all the born idiots I ever heard of, he is the beat!” exclaimed Tom, who could hardly believe his ears.
“That’s my opinion exactly. If he could see you now, or if he could have seen the miserable being I met while I was riding through the sage-brush a little while ago, he would be——”
“While you were riding through the sage-brush!” interrupted Tom. “Did you come that way?”
“Yes; I came directly from the post, and on the road I nearly ran over the meanest specimen of humanity my eyes ever rested upon. I tell you, I wouldn’t like to meet him on a dark night, if I had anything about me that was worth stealing.”
“Oh, he isn’t as bad as he looks,” said Tom.
“How do you know he isn’t?” asked Oscar, who was greatly amazed. “It isn’t possible that you are acquainted with him?”