“Aw, say, can’t you believe a feller?” asked the man aggrievedly. “I said I’d loosen up an’ I’ll do it. Gee, you rich guys is the limit! What’s eight dollars to fellers like you, anyway? Why don’t you give the rest of us a chance to live?”
He thrust the hand Toby had released between the buttons of his overcoat and fumbled an instant, while Toby watched narrowly and Arnold clung like grim death to the other arm.
“Why don’t you pick out an honest way to live?” asked Toby.
The man shrugged his shoulders. “Guess I wasn’t brung up right,” he answered, with a grin. “It ain’t so easy to walk the straight an’ narrer when you get started all wrong, kid. Here’s your money. I threw the purse away. It ain’t safe to keep purses around you. Let me have that other hand so’s I can count it off, can’t you?”
He had brought out a roll of bills quite two inches thick. Toby hesitated, dubious. “Promise not to run?” he asked finally.
“Word of honor, kid!”
“Let him go, Arn.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” said the man in the brown overcoat ironically. “Now then, got fifty cents? Here’s your nine dollars.” He peeled off a five and four ones and Arnold produced a fifty cent piece and the exchange was made. As Toby slipped the recovered wealth into an inner pocket the man said: “That’s right, kid. Let me tell you something. Don’t never carry money in an outside pocket. Leastways, not in this town! ’Tain’t safe. An’ it’s an awful temptation to fellers like me. So long, cullies. Good luck!”
“Good-by,” said Toby.
The man in the brown overcoat smiled, winked, pulled his hat to a new angle and sauntered off and was soon lost to sight in the throng. Toby drew a deep sigh of relief and satisfaction.