As there was nothing for him to do, the train being in the hands of
another newsboy, he sat down in the smoking-car, which was only moderately
filled. Directly in front was a man who, he judged from his dress, was a
Texan drover, or some returning Californian He was leaning back in the
corner of his seat, with his mouth open and his eyes shut, in a way to
suggest that he was asleep.

Seated next him was an individual who looked very much like the Italian
who had shoved his head into the door of Tom's room some months before.
This foreigner was watching the Californian--if such he was--as a cat
watches a mouse.

"I believe he means to rob him," was Tom's conclusion, who, without being
suspected by the scoundrel, was taking mental notes of the whole
proceeding.

The supposition was confirmed within five minutes, when the Italian,
leaning over toward the other, in an apparently careless manner, began
cautiously inserting his hand into his watch-pocket.

The instant Tom saw this, he bent forward and shook the Californian's
shoulder so vigorously that he started up, and demanded in a gruff voice
what was the matter. The Italian, of course, had withdrawn his hand like a
flash, and was leaning the other way, with his eyes half-closed, like one
sinking into a doze.

"I saw that man there," said Tom, pointing to the Italian, "with his hand
in your pocket, about to steal your watch, and I thought I'd best let you
know."