With a guilty start, Johnny and Albert turned instantly, and beheld the
strangest specimen of humanity that either had ever seen. An unmistakable
tramp, with a pale, sickly face, covered partly with grime and partly with
stubby black beard, stood leaning with his arms on top of the wall, looking
down at them. Although it was summer, he wore a greasy winter cap, and his
coat, too, spoke of many rough journeys through dirt and bad weather. His
lips were screwed into something resembling a smile; but as he spoke, his
haunted, sunken eyes roved restlessly from one upturned face to the other.

As the only answer the boys gave him was an astonished, frightened stare,
the man continued: "I would not do it, boys. It is an awful thing--awful! I
was trying to get a little sleep over here," he continued, "when I heard
your voices, and thought I would see what was going on. Did not any one
ever tell you about cigarettes? Why, each one contains enough poison to
kill a cat; if it was fixed right, I mean." He passed a thin, shaking hand
over his face, and went on: "Do you want to fool with such things?--Not if
you are wise. You see, the cigarette habit will kill you sometime, by
inches, if not right away, or else drive you crazy; and no sane person
wants to kill himself or spoil his health. That is what I am doing,
though," he admitted, with a bitter smile and a sad shake of his head. "But
I cannot stop it now. I have gone too far, and I cannot help myself. I am a
wreck, a blot on the face of the earth."

Both lads had thrown their cigarettes to the ground, scrambled to their
feet. Johnny, sober-faced and round-eyed, was gazing intently up at the
man; but Albert, feigning indifference, stood digging his toe into the
earth. He was listening, however.

"It is this way with me," the stranger went on, seeing he had an audience: