"Believe me, you said something," Hervey ejaculated.
"Well, I'm going to say some more," Tom laughed.
"This is my friend," said Hervey; "Robin Hood, but I don't know his real name. He's a good friend of mine, and he can play the banjo only he hasn't got one with him, and I want to get him a job."
"Any friend of yours——" Tom began and winked at Gilbert.
"What did I tell you?" said Hervey. "Didn't I tell you I'd fix it?"
"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Hood," said Tom. "We're expecting to be pretty busy here, I can say that much," he added cautiously.
"I was just roaming the woods," said the stranger. "I haven't got any home; out of luck. The boys insisted on my coming."
"Strangers always welcome," said Tom cheerily.
It was, indeed, true that strangers were always welcome. Temple Camp was down on the hobo's blue book as a hospitable refuge. Stranded show people had known its sheltering kindness. Moreover, Tom was not likely to make particular inquiry about Hervey's chance acquaintances. The wandering minstrel had brought in laid-off farm hands, a strolling organ grinder with a monkey, not to mention two gypsies, a peddler of rugs and other strays.
"Well, Tyson," said Tom, clasping his hands behind his head and swinging his legs in a way of utmost good humor, "suppose you take Mr. Hood over to camp-fire and see if he can stand for some of those yarns. Tell Uncle Jeb he's going to hang around till morning. You stay here, Hervey. I'd like to hear about your adventures. Let's see, how many lives have you got left now?"