"Ben," he said, "if I answer that question, will you promise never to ask me another concerning them or me so long as we are together?"
"Yes."
"Never; no matter what happens?"
"I'll ask you no more, Tom, for I know it does not concern me; but tell me truly, are you following them?"
"To the death!" and the boy's hands clenched and his hazel eyes glittered as he hissed the words. There was such a concentrated hatred and bitterness in the utterance that Ben started back and eyed him aghast.
"There; now you know something that does not concern you. I hope you are satisfied. Furthermore the meeting in New Jersey City was no accident. I followed them and ran against that—that man with my hat down, to learn when and where they were going. Remember your promise, Ben. Don't trifle with me. Don't break it. For I like you Bennie—I—I love you. I do indeed, and I don't want to fall out with you." Saying which, in a voice and manner that had softened to the tenderness of a girl's, Tom ran into the galley and resumed the polishing of plates.
Puzzled by the mystery surrounding his little friend, Ben still remembered his suggestion, and on applying to the head cook was duly installed as Lord of the Buck-Saw to his sable Majesty.
Verily hath his lines fallen in pleasant places. A rescue from the river, his ride to New Orleans secured, and here, to cap the climax of his good fortune, here he was living on the fat of the Argenta's larder, and only exercise enough to give him an appetite. New Orleans and the twenty thousand dollars appeared already within his grasp.
Two days glided by in peace and plenty. The duties of his new office were neither irksome nor confining. An hour or so's industrial manipulation of the buck-saw provided wood enough to last the cook all day. In return for this service, he was called into the galley and filled to repletion after the other members of the cook's family were through. He was the envy of all the "bums" and deck passengers, passing as a bloated office-holder among them. One serious and matter of fact "dead broke" to whom Ben surreptitiously carried biscuits from the galley earnestly advised him not to do too much at a time, but let each day provide for itself, so that in case the boat blew up or sunk he would not be a loser. Indeed Ben grafted happy moments on the lives of many poor devils by secreting victuals about his person while in the galley and distributing them among the more starved of the free-riders. There were still a goodly number on board and every raid of the clerk landed three or four. Where they managed to stow themselves so as to escape observation was a mystery to him.