"Well, the dadblasted bum!" exclaimed Bunker in a rage as the miner passed over the first hill and, stumping across the street, he rolled up the tumbled blankets. "The dirty dog!" he grumbled vindictively, hoisting the bed upon his shoulders; but as he started back to the house he heard something drop from the roll. He paused and looked back and there on the ground lay a wallet, stuffed with bills. It was the miner's purse, which he had put under his pillow and forgotten in his sudden departure. "O-ho!" observed Bunker as he picked it up. "O-ho, I thought you was broke!" He opened the purse with great deliberation, laying bare a great sheaf of bills, and as his wife and daughter came hurrying down the steps he counted the hobo's hoard. "Over eight hundred dollars," he announced with ominous calm. "Some roll, when a man is bumming his meals and can't even stop to say thanks----" "He's coming back for it," broke in his wife anxiously. "And now, Andrew, please don't----" "Never mind," returned her husband, slipping the wallet into his pocket, and she sighed and folded her hands. The hobo was walking fast, coming back down the hill, and when he saw Hill by the blankets he broke into a ponderous trot. "Say," he called, "you didn't see a purse, did ye? I left one under my blankets." "A purse!" exclaimed Bunker with exaggerated surprise. "Why I thought you was broke--what business have _you_ got with a purse?" "Well, I had a few keep-sakes and----" "You're a liar!" rapped out Bunker and his sharp lower jaw suddenly jutted out like a crag. "You're a liar," he repeated, as the hobo let it pass, "you had eight hundred and twenty-five dollars." "Well, what's that to you?" retorted the miner defiantly. "It's mine, so gimme it back!" "Oh, I don't know," drawled Bunker hauling the purse from his pocket and looking over the bills, "I don't know whether I will or not. You came in here last night and told me you were broke, but right here is where I collect. It'll cost you five dollars for your supper and breakfast and five dollars more for your bed--that's my regular price to transients." "No, you don't!" exclaimed the hobo, but as Bunker looked up he drew back a step and waited. "That's ten dollars in all," continued Hill, extracting two bills from the purse, "and next time you bum your breakfast I'd advise you to thank the cook." "Hey, you give me that money!" burst out the miner hoarsely, holding out a threatening hand, and Bunker Hill rose to his full height. He was six feet two when he stooped.