Samuel looked at the man in wonder. He was tall and lean, with a pale face and restless dark eyes. He had a prominent nose and a long neck, which gave him a peculiar, alert expression that reminded Samuel of a startled partridge. “Scares you, hey?” he said. “Well, I wasn't always a gopherman.” “What were you before that?” “I was an inventor.” “An inventor!” exclaimed Samuel. “Yes. Have you seen the glass-blowing machines here in town?” “No, I haven't.” “Well, I invented three of them. And old Henry Lockman robbed me of them.” “Robbed you!” gasped the boy amazed. “Yes,” said the other. “Didn't he rob everybody he ever came near?” “I didn't know it,” replied Samuel. “Guess you never came near him,” laughed the man. “Say--where do you come from, anyhow? Tell me about yourself.” So Samuel began at the beginning and told his story. Pretty soon he came to the episode of “Glass Bottle Securities.” “My God!” exclaimed the other. “I thought you said old Lockman had never robbed you!” “I did,” answered Samuel. “But don't you see that he robbed you then?” “Why, no. It wasn't his fault. The stock went down when he died.” “But why should it have gone down when he died, except that he'd unloaded it on the public for a lot more than it was worth?” Samuel's jaw fell. “I never thought of that,” he said. “Go on,” said Charlie. Then Samuel told how he was starving, and how he had gone to Professor Stewart, and how the professor had told him he was one of the unfit. His companion had taken his pipe out of his mouth and was staring at him. “And you swallowed all that?” he gasped. “Yes,” said Samuel. “And you tried to carry it out! You went away to starve!” “But what else was there for me to do?” asked the boy. “But the Lord!” ejaculated the other. “When it came time for ME to starve, I can promise you I found something else to do!” “Go on,” he said after a pause; and Samuel told how he had saved young Lockman's life, and what happened afterwards. “And so he was your dream!” exclaimed the other. “You were up against a brace game, Sammy!” “But how was I to know?” protested the boy. “You should read the papers. That kid's been cutting didoes in the Tenderloin for a couple of years. He wasn't worth the risking of your little finger--to say nothing of your life.” “It seems terrible,” said Samuel dismayed.