“That isn't the man. I never saw him before. Oh, he is in awful pain. Why doesn't that doctor get here? But there doesn't seem to be anything broken. He took my pocketbook, too, with two dollars and twenty-seven cents in it. And it's every cent of money we've got by us. And it may be weeks before he can go to work again. Troubles don't come singly. That mis'able, fat, greasy thief! After I had fed him—even gave him pie!”
“As I told you, gentlemen, it was a fat tramp. I saw him run away into the woods.”
“If you call yourself a man why didn't you chase him?” inquired the contractor, with disgust.
“I took no interest in his affairs—no interest whatever,” stated Farr, with languid tone.
“You don't care much what happens to anybody else, you hog!”
“My interest in other persons is very limited.”
“You'll stand by and see one of your kind run away with the property of poor folks, will you? You meet him later and get your whack?” asked the big man.
“No,” said Farr, mildly. He directed compelling gaze into the eyes of his detractor. “And you do not think so yourself.”
“Perhaps not. But you're worse. You have just said it. You're a selfish renegade!”
“Peculiarly selfish, hard, and unfeeling.”