“Well, youse might have.  ’Tain’t your fault dat youse didn’t,” and the tramp began to brush the dirt from his ragged coat.  Tom was instantly struck by a curious fact.  The tramp in his second remarks used language more in keeping with his character, whereas, in his first surprise and anger, he had talked much as any other person would.  “Youse fellers ain’t got no right t’ ride dem machines like lightnin’ along de roads,” the ragged chap went on, and he still clung to the use of words and expressions current among his fraternity.  Tom wondered at it, and then, ascribing the use of the better language to the fright caused by being hit by the machine, the lad thought no more about it at the time.  There was occasion, however, when he attached more meaning to it.

“I’m very sorry,” went on Tom.  “I’m sure I didn’t mean to.  You see, I was going quite slowly, and—­”

“You call dat slow, when youse hit me an’ knocked me down?” demanded the tramp.  “I’d oughter have youse arrested, dat’s what, an’ I would if dere was a cop handy.”

“I wasn’t going at all fast,” said Tom, a little nettled that his conciliatory words should be so rudely received.  “If I had been going full speed I’d have knocked you fifty feet.”

“It’s a good thing.  Cracky, den I’m glad dat youse wasn’t goin’ like dat,” and the tramp seemed somewhat confused.  This time Tom looked at him more closely, for the change in his language had been very plain.  The fellow seemed uneasy, and turned his face away.  As he did so Tom caught a glimpse of what he was sure was a false beard.  It was altogether too well-kept a beard to be a natural one for such a dirty tramp as this one appeared to be.

“That fellow’s disguised!” Tom thought.  “He’s playing a part.  I wonder if I’d better take chances and spring it on him that I’m on to his game?”

Then the ragged man spoke again: 

“I s’pose it was part my fault, cully.  I didn’t know dat any guy was comin’ along on one of dem buzz-machines, or I’d been more careful.  I don’t s’pose youse meant to upset me?” and he looked at Tom more boldly.  This time his words seemed so natural, and his beard, now that Tom took a second look at it, so much a part of himself, that the young inventor wondered if he could have been mistaken in his first surmise.

“Perhaps he was once a gentleman, and has turned tramp because of hard luck,” thought Tom.  “That would account for him using good language at times.  Guess I’d better keep still.”  Then to the tramp he said:  “I’m sure I didn’t mean to hit you.  I admit I wasn’t looking where I was going, but I never expected to meet any one on this road.  I certainly didn’t expect to see a—­”

He paused in some confusion.  He was about to use the term “tramp,” and he hesitated, not knowing how it would be received by his victim.

“Oh, dat’s all right, cully.  Call me a tramp—­I know dat’s what youse was goin’ t’ say.  I’m used t’ it.  I’ve been a hobo so many years now dat I don’t mind.  De time was when I was a decent chap, though.  But I’m a tramp now.  Say, youse couldn’t lend me a quarter, could youse?”