fter which he put the envelopes in the inside
pocket of his vest and buttoned his coat over them.

"What's this for?" enquired the clerk.

"That's to pay you for your trouble," said the gambler. "Now, the less I
hear about this money the better I shall like it. Let us out."

"What have you been doing to him?" enquired the clerk, after he had let
Mr. Bolton out of the side door on to the guards, locked Tom's money in
the safe, and raised the blind which gave entrance into the cabin. "Are
you any relative of his?"

"No. I never saw him until I came on board this boat. I told him my
story and that led him to give me some money. The barber says he has
travelled over this road a good many times."

"Oh, I know him. This isn't the first fifty dollars I have made out of
him. He has a different name every time. This time it is Jasper Bolton.
Why, two years ago he came aboard of us, clean shaved as any farmer and
dressed like one, and had charge of twenty-five barrels of dried apples
which he was taking to Memphis. Of course he got on to a game before he
had been here a great while, and cleaned everyone out."

"I wish he wouldn't gamble," said Tom. "He has the manners of a
gentleman."

"Oh, everyone has to make his living at something," said the clerk, with
a laugh. "And if he can't make his any easier than at gambling, why, I
say let him keep at it. But you ought to have seen him with those dried
apples! He talked them up so big among the passengers that he sold them
for double the sum that I could have bought the same apples for. Oh,
he's a good one!"

"I shouldn't think he would want to carry that money in his vest
pocket," said Tom. "How easy it would be for somebody to knock him down
and take it away from him."

"He's got a big revolver in his pocket," said the clerk.

During the rest of the trip to Memphis Tom stuck as close to Mr.
Bolton's side as if he had grown there, and listened to some good
advice, which, had he seen fit to follow it, would have made his
progress through life a comparatively smooth one; but Tom could not get
over the "gibes" which he knew his uncle would throw at him as often as
he got angry. He said that was all that kept him from going back, and
the gambler finally gave it up in despair.

On arriving at Memphis Mr. Bolton picked up his valise, bade good-by to
some of the officers whose acquaintance he had made on the way up, and
stepped ashore with Tom at his heels. The latter kept a cl