“Look here,” said Carl, slowly backing. “You’ve robbed me of ten dollars. You’ll have to be satisfied with that.”
“It was no good. It might have sent me to prison. If I was nicely dressed I might pass it, but when a chap like me offers a ten-dollar bill it’s sure to be looked at sharply. I haven’t a cent, and I’ll trouble you to hand over all you’ve got.”
“Why don’t you work for a living? You are a strong, able-bodied man.”
“You’ll find I am if you give me any more of your palaver.”
Carl saw that the time of negotiation was past, and that active hostilities were about to commence. Accordingly he turned and ran, not forward, but in the reverse direction, hoping in this way to meet with Mr. Jennings.
“Ah, that’s your game, is it?” growled the tramp. “You needn’t expect to escape, for I’ll overhaul you in two minutes.”
So Carl ran, and his rough acquaintance ran after him.
It could hardly be expected that a boy of sixteen, though stout and strong, could get away from a tall, powerful man like the tramp.
Looking back over his shoulder, Carl saw that the tramp was but three feet behind, and almost able to lay his hand upon his shoulder.
He dodged dexterously, and in trying to do the same the tramp nearly fell to the ground. Naturally, this did not sweeten his temper.