Young found his voice then and for at least two minutes gave vent to his feelings, which, judging from the expressions he made use of, were far from pleasant. When, at last, breath or fresh invectives failed him, Joe said: “Young, you might as well be sensible about this. We’ll be in Toledo in a few minutes and there’ll be an officer waiting for us. What’s the good of going to jail for seventy-five dollars? Why don’t you give me back what you stole and have an end of it?” Young, having regained his breath, indulged in a few more well-chosen remarks derogatory to Joe’s character. After which he declared that he knew nothing about the money, never saw it, didn’t have it, and wouldn’t give it up if he had! “Well,” said Joe impatiently, “you’ve had plenty of chances to give it back without fuss, Young. So don’t blame me for anything that happens after this.” He got up and went off down the aisle, leaving Mr. Chester Young scowling somewhat anxiously after him. In the library compartment Joe reported the result of his mission. “I guess,” he said regretfully, “there’s nothing to do now but try to get him arrested.” “Are you certain he means to get off at Toledo?” asked the man. “N-no, I’m not. He bought a ticket for Toledo, though.” “Hm. Well, we’d better be ready in case he does. I’ll go and get my things ready.” “Are you getting off there?” asked Joe as the other pulled his six feet and four or five inches from the chair. “Do you know,” replied the man, “I’m never certain when I start out where I’ll fetch up? It’s queer that way.” He stretched his long arms and smiled whimsically down at the boy. “Once I started off for Chicago and brought up in Buenos Aires. After all, it’s the uncertainty that makes life interesting, eh?” The stranger proceeded to the second car ahead, changed the cap he was wearing for a derby, strapped up a battered kit-bag, took his overcoat from the hook, and went forward again. Near the rear door of the smoking car was an unoccupied seat, and in this the two seated themselves. Joe pointed out the refractory Mr. Young to his companion, who examined what was to be seen of his back with a disappointed expression. “Very weak,” he muttered. “Hardly worthy of our talents, my friend. Observe the narrowness of the head between the ears. A sure sign of weakness of character. I have it myself. I think we can safely assume that he is not going to leave us here. If he were he’d be stirring around.”