"Where's the sapphire ring you got from the feller in Charlottesville?" "I--I still got it." "Oh, I see!" sneered Ernie, drawing back. "You're saving it to give to Ruby Noakes, eh? That's it, is it? Cheating me out of it to give to her. An engagement ring, eh? Say, you--" "Hold on, Ernie," said Dick sternly. "I'm not going to do anything of the sort. Why--why, I couldn't give Ruby anything I'd stole. I couldn't!" "Aw, but you don't mind giving me things you've stole. I'm different, am I? I'm not as good as she is, am I? Well, say, lemme tell you one thing: Ruby Noakes ain't going to hook up with a sneak thief." "Ernie," said Dick, going very white and speaking very slowly, "you sometimes make me wish you'd 'a' died that time." "I wish I had! Then they'd 'a' hung you." "I was only nine," murmured Dick, trying to put his arm around his brother, only to have it struck away with violence. "And I was only four," scoffed the other. "Say, let's see that ring." Dick produced the sapphire. It was most unusual in him to carry the smallest part of his gains on his person. The circumstance struck Ernie at once. "So you _were_ going to give it to her," snapped he. "She wouldn't take it if I were fool enough to offer it," said Dick quietly, dropping the ring into his brother's hand. It immediately found a new resting place in the latter's pocket. "Maybe the other one will take it from me," he grinned. "You'd better not try it, Braddock would kick you to death." "Everybody wants to kick me," whined the other, taking a new turn. "But, say, he didn't offer to kick me last night when I told him she'd been out walking with that guy. I seen 'em--I seen 'em sneaking in. I told Brad. I bet he raised thunder with 'em." Dick was looking out past the stand in the direction of the big tents. "I'm not so sure," he said dryly. "I see Brad and Christine and the guy you mean talking over there by the entrance. They seem to be in a specially good humor." Ernie sprang forward, his eyes dilated. He stared for a full minute without blinking. Then his grip on Dick's arm suddenly relaxed. "Oh, God, how I wish I was straight and handsome like him!" he cried brokenly. Dick did not look down, but he knew that the tears were standing in the boy's eyes. "Don't think about it, Ernie," he began. Ernie shook off his hand and angrily rubbed his eyes with his bony knuckles. He sobbed twice, and then burst forth in a shrill tirade of abuse. Quivering with ungovernable rage, he called Dick every vile name he could lay his proficient tongue to. Poor Dick offered up no word of protest, no sign of resentment. When Ernie stopped for sheer exhaustion, not only of his lung power but in the matter of epithets, the tall martyr took his hands out of his pockets, stretched himself lazily, and announced, as if it were expected of him as a duty: "Well, the crowd is beginning to gather at the ticket-wagon. I guess I'd better be strolling among 'em, Ernie. So long."