"He's one of the good
Sunday-school boys. I can imagine how shocked he would be if he
knew that, instead of being a traveler for H. B. Claflin, I have
been living by my wits for the last half-dozen years. He seems
to be half asleep. I think I can venture to explore a little."
He took Luke's trousers from the chair on which he had laid them,
and thrust his fingers into the pockets, but brought forth only
a penknife and a few pennies.
"He keeps his money somewhere else, it seems," said Coleman.
Next he turned to the vest, and from the inside vest pocket
drew out Luke's modest pocketbook.
"Oh, here we have it," thought Coleman, with a smile.
"Cunning boy; he thought nobody would think of looking
in his vest pocket. Well, let us see how much he has got."
He opened the pocketbook, and frowned with disappointment
when he discovered only a two-dollar bill.
"What does it mean? Surely he hasn't come to Chicago with
only this paltry sum!" exclaimed Coleman. "He must be more
cunning than I thought."
He looked in the coat pockets, the shoes, and even the socks
of his young companion, but found nothing, except the silver
watch, which Luke had left in one of his vest pockets.
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