CHAPTER VI.
Tom Gordon could not be blamed for failing to note several suggestive occurrences during this memorable visit to Briggsville.
Seated on the porch of the hotel, while he was talking to the group of young persons and acquaintances, were two strangers, whose dilapidated dress, frowzy heads, and surly faces, showed they belonged to that pestiferous class of vagrants known as tramps.

They sat apart, after taking a drink in the bar-room, and with scowling but interested looks listened to the chatter going on around them.

It did not take them long to catch the drift of matters.

They talked together in low tones, with furtive glances at the young hero, and kept their places, with a few muttered remarks that no one else could catch, while Tom was inside.
When the smiling lad reappeared, his friends besieged him with inquiries.
"Did he give you the money, Tom?
How much is it ?" Being a sturdy boy, Tom naturally did not wish to appear too much elated over his good fortune.
"Yes," he replied, with an assumption of indifference; "he paid me the hundred dollars like a gentleman, and I've got it in my pocket." "What are you going to do with so much money ?" asked a mischievous acquaintance; "buy a farm, or go in partnership with Vanderbilt ?" "I'm going to give every cent of it to my mother," replied Tom, with a compression of his fine lips and a flash of his eye.
"That's right!" commented an elderly gentleman; "you couldn't put it into safer hands, and I mean that for all of you youngsters." It was at this juncture that the two tramps rose to their feet, and slouched down the road in the direction of Tom Gordon's home.

In the flurry of the moment no one noticed their departure, which indeed might not have attracted attention at any time.
"You've got a loaded gun in your house ?" was the inquiring remark of the same gentleman.
"Yes, sir; we always keep one.