Dave was doing a good deal of active thinking. More than once, as his companion led way around the high board fence enclosing the Interstate plant, Dave took out the badge he had bought and scrutinized the scratches on its back closely.
'The tramp guided the way across a bleak prairie stretch. Then he followed the dry ditch, until they came to a spot where thick clumps of weeds directly lining the fence suggested a cozy resting and hiding place for any stray wayfarer.
"There's where I was asleep, as I told you," spoke Dave's companion, pointing to a spot where the weeds were somewhat trodden down. "And there's the place where the coat caught. See, there's one or two pieces of the cloth of the coat hanging in the barbs yet."
"Yes, I see," assented Dave. "Now, where did you throw the coat and the things you found In it?"
The tramp moved about from place to place, got in line with the fence support, and looked down into the ditch. He moved along slowly, his eyes on the ground. Finally he stooped down.
"Here's the coat—what there's left of it," he reported. "Here's that card, too. I can't find the pencil."
"Never mind that," replied Dave, extending his hand for the proffered objects.
"I smoked up the cigarettes."
Dave glanced eagerly at the card. He shoved it in a safe pocket.
Then he rolled up the coat and placed it under his arm.
"Very good, very good, indeed," he said.