“I’m broke,” Tip informed Ripley, plaintively.  “Stony!  Understand?  I hain’t got no money.”

“You don’t expect me to furnish you with any?” demanded Fred, his eyes opening wide in astonishment.  “I paid you, in full, last year.”

“Ye didn’t pay me fer the stretch I done, did ye?” demanded Tip, insolently.  “How much did ye pay me for keeping my mouth closed, so you wouldn’t have to do your stretch?”

Fred winced painfully under that steady, half-ugly glance of the other.

“And now,” continued Scammon, in a half-hurt way, “ye think it’s hard if I tell ye that I want a few dollars to keep food in my insides.”

“You’ve got your father,” hinted Fred.

“Sure, I have,” Tip assented.

“But it’s mighty little he’ll do for me until I get a job and settle down to it.”

“Well, why don’t you?” asked Fred Ripley.  “That’s the surest way to get straight with the world.”

“When I want advice,” sneered Scammon, “I won’t tramp all the way out here, an’ ask you for it.  Nope.  I don’t want advice.  What I want is money.”

“Oh, well, Tip, I’m sorry for you and your troubles.  Here’s a dollar for you.  I wish I could make it more.”

Fred Ripley drew out the greenback, passing it over.  Tip took the money, studying it curiously.

“Ye’re sorry just a dollar’s worth—–­is that it?  Well, old pal, ye’ll have to be more sorry’n that.  I’ll let ye off fer ten dollars, but hand it over quick!”

Fred’s first impulse was to get angry, but it didn’t take him more than an instant to realize that it would be better to keep this fellow quiet.

“I haven’t ten dollars, Tip—–­on my honor,” he protested, hesitatingly.

“On yer—–­what?” questioned Scammon, with utter scorn.

“I haven’t ten dollars.”

“How much have ye?”

There was something in Tip’s ugly eyes that scared the boy.  Fred went quickly through his pockets, producing, finally, six dollars and a half.

“I’ll give you six of this, Tip,” proposed Fred, rather miserably.

“Ye’ll give me all of it, ye mean,” responded Scammon.  “And ye’ll meet me to-morrow aft’noon with five more—–­something for interest, ye know.”

“But I won’t have five dollars again, as soon as that,” argued Fred, weakly.

“Yes, you will,” leered Tip.  “You’ll have to!”

“What do you mean?” demanded Fred, trying to bluster, but making a failure of the attempt.

“It’ll take five more to give me lock-jaw,” declared Scammon.  “I’m jest out of prison, and I mean to enjoy myself restin’ a few days before I settle down to a job again.  So, to-morrow, turn up with the five!”

“I don’t know where to get the money.”

“Find out, then,” sneered the other.  “I don’t care where you get it, but you’ve got to get it and hand it over to me to-morrow, or it’ll be too late, an’ Gridley’ll be too hot a place for ’ye!”