all through the
meal, and told himself that if that was the style that men of his class
were made of he had a great deal to learn before he could become a
gambler. There wasn't a thing about him that could have been found fault
with in any circle of gentlemen. In spite of his calling he had given
Tom what he regarded as good advice, and he did not know what else he
had to say to him.

"There's one thing about it," thought Tom. "He has been around the world
a good deal, is sometimes flush to-day and strapped to-morrow, but I'll
bet if he was in my fix he would not go back to my uncle. If I am there
to take all his abuse, my uncle never will get over flinging his gibes
at me; but if I am away where I can't hear them, it won't take him so
long to get over it. He can advise me all he's a mind to, but I won't go
home."

Breakfast being over, Tom pushed back his chair and went out and seated
himself on the guard. The gambler did not put in an appearance for
fifteen minutes, for he was not the one to allow his good fortune to
take away his appetite. He came at length and bore in his hand a couple
of cigars, one of which he offered to Tom. But the latter did not smoke.

"You'll need an overcoat, Tom," said Mr. Bolton, after he had lighted
his cigar and placed his heels upon the railing. "The country you have
just come from is a summer's day compared to the one where you are
going. It's only the latter part of December, and you'll find blizzards
out there, I bet you."

"But I can't afford an overcoat, Mr. Bolton. I have only fifty dollars,
and it is all my own, too."

"I'll get it for you. I haven't forgotten that I have been in trouble--I
may be that way next week; and when I do get that way, I'd feel mighty
glad for the simple gift of an overcoat. I'll get you one in Memphis,
and at the same time I will tell the clerk to hand you two hundred
dollars for your own."

"I can't take it, Mr. Bolton," said Tom, astonished at the proposition.

"Oh, yes, you can. You never may be able to return it to me, but if you
ever find one who is suffering, and you have enough and to spare, I want
you to hand it to him. That's all the pay I ask. I've owed this for a
year, and this is the first chance I have had to square up with the
fellow who gave it to me."

"Where is the fellow now?"

"I don't know whether he is living or dead. He was a good fellow, and
when I told him what my circumstances were, how I had got in with a
party of r