afterward. He never suffered no harm. He did me favors, and I hated to
hand him over."

"How about the bills they found in his pocket?" asked the seedy man.

"I put 'em there," said the red-faced man, "while he was asleep, when I
saw the posse riding up. I was Black Bill. Look out, Snipy, here she
comes! We'll board her on the bumpers when she takes water at the tank."




SCHOOLS AND SCHOOLS


I


Old Jerome Warren lived in a hundred-thousand-dollar house at 35 East
Fifty-Soforth Street. He was a downtown broker, so rich that he could
afford to walk--for his health--a few blocks in the direction of his
office every morning, and then call a cab.

He had an adopted son, the son of an old friend named Gilbert--Cyril
Scott could play him nicely--who was becoming a successful painter as
fast as he could squeeze the paint out of his tubes. Another member of
the household was Barbara Ross, a step-niece. Man is born to trouble;
so, as old Jerome had no family of his own, he took up the burdens of
others.