“Look here, young man,” he said, when we had left the window, “I am not going to be teamed any farther until you tell me exactly where you are going and what you are intending to do.”
It rather surprised me to hear him speak; I had sort of forgotten that he could talk.
“Do you pretend that you expect to get money, racing around like this?”
“I’m on the trail of it, Judge Kingsley—your money, you remember. I’m not doing this for my own amusement.”
“You seem to be; I’ve been watching you, sir. You are plainly relishing this junketing about. I go no farther.”
“How much money have you in your pocket?” I asked, mildly.
He looked alarmed. “I did not bring money! You took the money for expenses, you said. I depended on that. I have only a few dollars.”
“That’s good,” I told him. “So there’s no chance for argument here on this platform.” I waved the tickets under his nose. “I reckon you’ll have to stick right along with me, sir, wherever I go.”
That settled that rebellion!
When I started toward the train he followed. His face was white, his jaws were ridged, and he was furious—but his anger locked his lips. He did not bother me with questions. That night I hid my money inside my berth-pillow; by the way the judge looked at me I knew he would pick my pocket if he got a chance.