Percy could not repress a tremor when he found himself once more so close to that precious rascal.
“What did I leave Nebraska for?” Squeaky was saying. “Well, Nebraska was getting unhealthy for me, and I thought I’d try a change of climate. I was too much sought after there, and that’s a fact. But what sent you out here? You didn’t have to leave between two days, did you?”
“No,” replied Bates. “I’m travelling for pleasure, you see,—at least, I was,—and I ought to be well on my way to California now, but, unfortunately, I tried my luck in a gambling hall one evening and lost nearly everything I had. I never saw such a streak of bad luck.”
The red-headed man nodded. “I know all about that,” said he. “I was standing behind you when you lost your money, and I guessed by your actions that you was pretty well cleaned out. That’s what made me speak to you, and propose we should work some scheme together to make a raise. I knew that when a man loses all his money gambling he’s generally ready to go into any kind of a scheme, no matter what, to get a fresh supply, and when you told me about these two runaway schoolboys I saw a chance to do it. How did you come to know about ’em, anyway?”
“I was at school with them,” replied Bates. “They got in to a poaching scrape and ran away. The next thing I heard of them was finding their names in the paper as having prevented the wrecking of a train somewhere in Nebraska.”
“What!” exclaimed the other. “Was it them?”
Bates nodded; and Squeaky’s face assumed a very ugly expression as he continued:
“Then that’s another reason for getting my hands on them. They owe me something, and if ever I get hold of them they’ll have to pay.”
“Why? What do you mean? What have you to do with that business?”
“What have I—well, never mind that now. I’ll explain later, maybe. So that’s the pair, is it?”—and he went on mumbling to himself, with his mouth full of bacon.