“You’ve been up to something, Billy, if looks count,” Hugh told him as the other came up, panting a little from hurrying.
“Well, I don’t know that you could hardly call it that, Hugh,” said Billy. “I own up I’ve been keeping an eye on that medicine fakir and Cale, because I like to study human nature, you remember, and that pair certainly make a fellow sit up and take notice.”
“Anything new in that quarter?” asked Hugh, carelessly, to draw the other out.
“Just what I hurried here to tell you, Hugh.”
“Oh! then there have been developments?”
“I think the queer influence that slick fakir Old Doctor Merritt has been exercising over that chap Cale must be weakening around now, Hugh. How do I know? Well, I’ll tell you. As I passed close to their medicine tent I heard a loud voice. It was the fake doctor threatening violence to the boy if he didn’t keep on doing his part to victimize the public. Hugh, I believe Cale is trying to break away; and I tell you—it’s about time we stepped in to take a hand in the game.”
CHAPTER VIII.
A SCOUT IN TROUBLE.
“Don’t get excited about it, Billy,” said Hugh, in his soothing way.
“I’ll try and keep cool, Hugh,” came the reply; “but there’s something about the looks and ways of that fake doctor that makes my blood boil. He couldn’t drag me around like he does that Cale; but, then, everybody isn’t alike.”
“Yes, he’d have a pretty hefty job hauling you around with him,” assented Hugh, with a chuckle, as he surveyed the stout figure of his chum. “Speaking of our interfering—it mustn’t be done hastily.”