least four days attempted to imitate Jim by combing his own hair in that
fashion.

A few days later, Jim again casually favored him with a confidential
interview. Clarence had been allowed to bestride one of the team leaders
postillionwise, and was correspondingly elevated, when Jim joined him,
on the Mexican plug, which appeared--no doubt a part of its wicked
art--heavily docile, and even slightly lame.

"How much," said Jim, in a tone of gloomy confidence,--"how much did you
reckon to make by stealin' that gal-baby, sonny?"

"Nothing," replied Clarence with a smile. Perhaps it was an evidence of
the marked influence that Jim was beginning to exert over him that
he already did not attempt to resent this fascinating implication of
grownup guilt.

"It orter bin a good job, if it warn't revenge," continued Jim moodily.

"No, it wasn't revenge," said Clarence hurriedly.

"Then ye kalkilated ter get er hundred dollars reward ef the old man and
old woman hadn't bin scelped afore yet got up to 'em?" said Jim. "That's
your blamed dodgasted luck, eh! Enyhow, you'll make Mrs. Peyton plank
down suthin' if she adopts the babby. Look yer, young feller," he said,
starting suddenly and throwing his face forward, glaring fiendishly
through his matted side-locks, "d'ye mean ter tell me it wasn't a
plant--a skin game--the hull thing?"

"A what?" said Clarence.