“If mother should see me now, she would be in despair,” he said, “and that isn’t the worst of it.”
“What is the worst of it, Tom?”
“I am not only ragged, but penniless.”
Peter Brush and the doctor exchanged a look of satisfaction. They were glad that Tom was penniless, because their help would be so much the more welcome.
“How is that, my lad?” asked Lycurgus. “The Indians didn’t take away your money, did they?”
“No; but after I left them and joined the party I finished my journey with, I had a use for all my funds. I had to buy a horse, and just as I came to the last stage of my journey he either ran away or was stolen. The last fifty miles I made on foot. As to the rest of the money it went for incidental expenses. Do you want to know how much I have left?”
He took from his pocket two cents.
“Those won’t pass here, Tom. Nobody will take so small a coin as that.”
“Not even for a suit of clothes?” asked Tom.
“No.”