"Go away," begged the old man, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Get
out of town."
He put his hand to his mouth and talked in a hoarse whisper, looking back
over his shoulder through the open door. Sam, getting out of bed, began
filling his pipe.
"You can't beat Ed, you fellows," added the old man, backing out at the
door. "He's a slick one, Ed is. You better get out of town."
Sam called a boy and gave him a note to Ed asking for his clothes and for
the bag in his room, and to the boy he gave a large bill, asking him to
pay anything due. When the boy came back bringing the clothes and the bag
he returned the bill unbroken.
"They're scared about something up there," he said, looking at Sam's
bruised face.
Sam dressed carefully and went down into the street. He remembered that he
had never seen a printed copy of the political pamphlet written in the
ravine and realised that Jake had used it to make money for himself.
"Now I shall try something else," he thought.
It was early evening and crowds of men coming down the railroad track from
the plough works turned to right and left as they reached Main Street. Sam
walked among them, climbing a little hilly side street to a number he had
got from a clerk at the drug store before which the socialist had talked.
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