“I made you leave?” cried Dave. “How?”
“’Cause, when I meets a feller what’s got learnin’ like you, I couldn’t stan’ it no longer. I wants ter be somethin’.”
Captain Bunderley was interested.
“Joe, your desire to rise is commendable,” he exclaimed, heartily. “Have you ever spoken to Mr. Whiffin about it?”
“I begins to talk to ’im this mornin’, an’ he ups an’ gits riled ter beat the band. ‘I wish’t I’d never laid eyes on that fat feller,’ says he. ‘Brandon’s been puttin’ all them fool notions inter your head.’ ‘Look ’ere, Whiffin,’ says I, ‘don’t you never say nothin’ ag’in ’im; he’s the whitest chap I ever see.’”
“So I have a champion at last,” chuckled Dave.
“Then Whiffin hollers fer me ter git back ter work or he’d fetch me a good one on the ear. That makes me most bile over—him—Whiffin, talkin’ like that! So I skips right out.”
“How’d you get here—board a fast freight?” inquired Victor.
“I did not. I stepped inter a real car, with real winders an’ real seats, an’ I’ve got seventy-five cents left.”
“Goodness, what a risk—floating around in a real city with that much real money in your pocket!” said Victor.