"A bareback rider—a mere boy, whom I could twist round my finger." "But I don't see how he could get you discharged." "Then I'll tell you. He went to Coleman and told him that he found me trying to unlock his closet and get at his property." "Of course that was false?" "Of course it was!" growled Carden. "But the manager believed him, and bounced me." "What could make the boy get up such a story?" "He hated me; he treated me like a dog, and put on airs, just as if we wasn't in the same business. He wouldn't drink with me when I asked him." "Then he is proud, is he?" "Yes, but he hasn't anything to be proud of. He thinks himself a gentleman, just because he can ride, and looks down on me as a poor canvas man." "He must be very disagreeable!" "Of course he is, but the manager don't think so. He treats him as if he was a prince." "Do you know anything about this Robert Rudd?" asked the stranger, thoughtfully. "Has he got parents living?" "Not as I know of." "How long has he been with the circus?" "He has been riding ever since he was a small kid." "Does he ride well?" "Oh yes, he'll do," said Carden, with faint praise. "I should think he would have been afraid to provoke you—a strong, stout man like you," said the stranger meditatively, surveying the strong frame and muscular arms of the ex-canvas man. "He'll repent it yet," flamed up Carden, his resentment fired by these artful words. "I don't mean to have any whipper-snapper like him get the better of me." "I can't say you are wrong, my friend, though I know nothing of the matter further than you have told me. What are your plans? When were you discharged?" "Day before yesterday. Coleman told me to leave town, but I shan't. I shall hang round here till I see some way of gettin' even with that young rascal." "It does seem hard that you should have had your means of living taken away from you through the spite of a boy. He must have a very bad disposition, this Robert Rudd." "Yes," said Carden, in a voice which was becoming thick through his frequent potations, for he was drinking two glasses or more to the stranger's one. "I'm a poor man, and it's hard to be thrown out of work." "I suppose you haven't saved up much money, then?" "Saved! What could I save out of fifteen dollars a month?" "That is poor pay, certainly. Is this boy, Robert Rudd, well paid?" "Well paid? He's got two hundred dollars saved up." "You don't tell me so! That is a good deal for a boy. Where does he keep it?" "In his locker," answered Carden, an expression of cupidity sweeping over his face. This was not unnoticed by the stranger, who said to himself: "Unless I am greatly mistaken, the boy was right in charging you with trying to get at his hoard. I can read it in your face." "You say he is a fine rider?" he said, changing the subject. "Oh, yes; he's well enough."