th the white whiskers?"

"Yes, him. And didn't you see him again at Derlingport? Well, what was
he follerin' us that way for when he told us at Joliet he was goin'
East?"

"A tramp has as good a right to change his mind as what we have," said
Wixy. "Didn't we tell him we was goin' East ourselves? Maybe he ain't
lookin' for steady company any more than we be. Maybe he come this way
to get away from us, like we did to get away from--say!--Sandlot," he
said almost pleadingly, "you don't really think old White-Whiskers was
a-trailin' us, do you? You ain't got a notion he's a detective?"

"How do I know what he is?" asked Sandlot. "All I know is that when I
see a feller like that once, and then again, and he looks like he was
tryin' to keep hid from us, I want to shake him off. I know that. And
I know I'm goin' to shake him off. And I know that if you get all
boozed up, and full of liquor, and can't walk, and that feller shows
up, I'm a-goin' to quit you and look out for myself. When a feller
steals something, or does any little harmless thing like that, it's
different. He can afford to stick to a pal, even if he gets nabbed.
But when it's a case of--"

"Now, don't use that word!" said Wixy angrily. "It wasn't no more
murder than nothing. Was we going to let Chicago Chicken bash our
heads in just because we stood up for our rights? Him wantin' a full
half just because he put us onto the job! He'd ought to been killed
for askin' such a thing."

"Well, he was, wasn't he?" asked Sandlot. "You killed him all right.
It was you swung on him with the rock, Wixy, remember that!"

"Tryin' to put it off on me, ain't you!" said Wixy angrily. "Well, you
can't do it. If I hang, you hang. Maybe I did take a rock to him, but
you had him strangled to death before I ever hit him."

"What's the use gabbin' about it?" said Sandlot. "He's dead, and we
made our get-away, and all we got to do is to keep got away. There
ain't anybody ever goin' to find him, not where we sunk him in that
deep water."

"Ain't I been sayin' that right along?" asked Wixy. "Ain't I been
tellin' you you was a fool to be scared of an old feller like
White-Whiskers? Cuttin' across country this way when we might as well
be forty miles more down the Rock Island, travelin' along as nice as
you please in a box car."

"Now, look here!" said Sandlot menacingly. "I ain't goin' to take no
abuse from you, drunk or sober. If you don't like my way, you go back
to the rai