beyond
here--don't say where--there's a one-horse tavern--old place, pretty
well off the main track. But it's mighty nigh one of the main railroad
lines."

While Paul was talking Phil was examining the paper, growing more
interested as he went on. Now he looked up, saying:

"It looks like a queer game. It may be worth a gambling chance."

"Think of the boodle! That express car was looted near there some years
ago. Another tramp was riding the brake beams and saw the robbers make
off in the nearby woods with their boodle. Papers were full of the
amount taken." Paul smacked his lips as if he tasted in anticipation
what the money would do. "Then this tramp jumped off and followed them.
See? It says so here." Paul pointed to a paragraph in the ragged
clipping. Phil, having already deciphered this, was reading further.
Then he said:

"That tramp was blind in one eye. Do you reckon he could tell and mark
what those robbers did with their boodle?"

"Sure, if he says so. I can see most as well with my hand over one eye
as with my two eyes." Paul in pantomime covered one eye and winked at
Phil, who was obliged to laugh. "Well, what does this tramp do? Why, he
waits round in hiding until them galoots go off after burying their
loot. Then he, like a fool, goes off to sleep. When he woke up his good
eye pained him so that he only marked the spot as best he could and
struck for the nearest house, which happened to be this old tavern."

"I see," remarked Phil ruminatively. "From this it appears he got better
and stayed, making himself so useful, choring about, that they kept him
on. Of course it was the boodle that kept him at work, doubtless meaning
to leave when he got better. Once he sneaked over to this big hemlock
and tried to dig for the money, but owing to the great rock they had
piled over it, and being weak from his sickness, he had to let it go,
meaning, of course, to come back when he was strong again. But he didn't
get strong. His other eye became more affected and in time he went
blind. After that the tavern folks sent him to the county almshouse, and
there he finally died."

"Right-o, Phil!" exclaimed Paul, unable longer to keep silence. "Just
before he pegged out, along came this same Coster's brother, also a
tramp. Tramp number one wouldn't tell the tavern folks because they put
him in the almshouse; but he did tell tramp number two, Coster's
brother, just because he was a tramp like himself, I guess. Coster'