“Confound you!” he muttered, “I wish I had a knife!”
Though Herbert made a vigorous resistance, his opponent was his superior in strength, and would ultimately have got the better of him. He had thrown Herbert down, and was trying to thrust his hand into his coat pocket, when a step was heard, and a tall man of Western appearance stepped on the scene.
“Hello!” he said, surveying the two combatants in surprise. “What's all this? Let that boy alone, you skunk, you!”
As he spoke, he seized the man by the collar and jerked him to his feet.
“What does all this mean?” he asked, turning from one to the other.
“This boy has robbed me of one hundred and fifty dollars,” said the man, glibly. “I fell in with him in the Boston cars, and he relieved me of a roll of bills which I had drawn from a bank in Boston.”
“What have you got to say to this?” asked the Western man, turning to Herbert, who was now on his feet.
“Only this,” answered Herbert, “that it is a lie. It was I who drew the money from the Merchants' Bank in Boston. This man saw me cash the check, followed me, and offered to come here with me, when I asked him for directions.”
“That's a likely story!” sneered the young man. “My friend here is too sharp to believe it.”
“Don't call me your friend!” said the Western man, bluntly. “I'm more than half convinced you're a scamp.”