“No wonder you wouldn’t work!  You’re making your living in an easier way.”

“What is the occasion of this effusive welcome to your city?” asked Farr.

The man who held one of the captive’s arms was panting.  He had run at top speed from the house to which he and his mates had borne the injured man.

“You thief!  You sneak!  Eat a man’s grub, his hard-earned grub, and steal when his wife’s back is turned!”

“Of all dirty work this job is the worst,” declared the big man.

“She gave you all you could stuff into yourself, you loafer.  You ransacked when her back was turned.  You even stole her husband’s Sunday suit.  Where is it?”

“I saw a fat tramp running away into the woods,” returned Farr, quietly.  “He was carrying articles in his arms.”

“You’re the only tramp in sight around here,” insisted the contractor.  “Where did you hide the plunder?”

“She said she fed a tramp.  She left him at the back door.  You’re the sneak,” indorsed the panting emissary.

“If you will take me back to the house you may get some new light on the affair,” suggested their captive.  “You need not drag me there.  I’ll go with much pleasure.”

The mistress of the despoiled home, red of eyes, hurrying from her sink with a cold compress in her trembling hands, viewed Farr from her back door.

“That isn’t the man.  I never saw him before.  Oh, he is in awful pain.  Why doesn’t that doctor get here?  But there doesn’t seem to be anything broken.  He took my pocketbook, too, with two dollars and twenty-seven cents in it.  And it’s every cent of money we’ve got by us.  And it may be weeks before he can go to work again.  Troubles don’t come singly.  That mis’able, fat, greasy thief!  After I had fed him—­even gave him pie!”

“As I told you, gentlemen, it was a fat tramp.  I saw him run away into the woods.”

“If you call yourself a man why didn’t you chase him?” inquired the contractor, with disgust.

“I took no interest in his affairs—­no interest whatever,” stated Farr, with languid tone.

“You don’t care much what happens to anybody else, you hog!”

“My interest in other persons is very limited.”

“You’ll stand by and see one of your kind run away with the property of poor folks, will you?  You meet him later and get your whack?” asked the big man.

“No,” said Farr, mildly.  He directed compelling gaze into the eyes of his detractor.  “And you do not think so yourself.”

“Perhaps not.  But you’re worse.  You have just said it.  You’re a selfish renegade!”

“Peculiarly selfish, hard, and unfeeling.”

“And wouldn’t turn your hand over to do a good turn for anybody?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ll tell you what I think I’ll do—­I’ll detail four of my men to ride you out of this town on a rail.”

“I wouldn’t call them off their jobs if I were you!  I overheard you say that you are short of time and men.  By the way, you offered me a job.  I’ll take it.”