He turned red and refused to meet her eyes.

"Went wrong, Miss," he said, "and my folks wouldn't stand for
it. We're all in the same boat," sweeping his arm around, "doing
punishment for our misdeeds."

"Do none of you ever reform?" inquired Patsy.

"What's the use? We're so far away from home no one there would ever
believe in our reformation. Once we become outcasts, that's the end
of our careers. We're buried in these Western wilds and allowed just
enough to keep alive."

"I would think," said Uncle John musingly, "that the manly way would
be to cut yourself off entirely from your people at home and go to
some city in the United States where honesty and industry would win a
new name for you. Then you could be respected and happy and become of
use to the world."

Stubby laughed.

"That has been tried," he replied; "but few ever made a success of it.
We're generally the kind that prefers idleness to work. My family is
wealthy, and I don't mind taking from them what little they give me
willingly and all that I can screw out of them besides. I'm in for
life, as the saying is, and I've no especial ambition except to drink
myself to death as soon as possible."

Patsy shuddered. It seemed a horrible thing to be so utterly hopeless.
Could this young fellow have really merited his fate?