The Oakdale Affair
foxy, were riveted upon the boyish figure of the housebreaker. “Wotinel!” ejaculated a frowzy gentleman in a frock coat and golf cap. “Wheredju blow from?”        inquired another. “'Hello, tramps'!” mimicked a third.     

       The youth came slowly toward the fire. “I saw your fire,” he said, “and I thought I'd stop. I'm a tramp, too, you know.”      

       “Oh,” sighed the elderly person in the frock coat. “He's a tramp, he is. An' does he think gents like us has any time for tramps? An' where might he be trampin', sonny, without his maw?”      

       The youth flushed. “Oh say!” he cried; “you needn't kid me just because I'm new at it. You all had to start sometime. I've always longed for the free life of a tramp; and if you'll let me go along with you for a little while, and teach me, I'll not bother you; and I'll do whatever you say.”      

       The elderly person frowned. “Beat it, kid!” he commanded. “We ain't runnin' no day nursery. These you see here is all the real thing. Maybe we asks fer a handout now and then; but that ain't our reg'lar way. You ain't swift enough to travel with this bunch, kid, so you'd better duck. Why we gents, here, if we was added up is wanted in about twenty-seven cities fer about everything from rollin' a souse to crackin' a box and croakin' a bull. You gotta do something before you can train wid gents like us, see?”        The speaker projected a stubbled jaw, scowled horridly and swept a flattened palm downward and backward at a right angle to a hairy arm in eloquent gesture of finality.     

       The boy had stood with his straight, black eyebrows puckered into a studious frown, drinking in every word. Now he straightened up. “I guess I made a mistake,” he said, apologetically. “You ain't tramps at all. You're thieves and murderers and things like that.” His eyes opened a bit wider and his voice sank to a whisper as the words passed his lips. “But you haven't so much on me, at that,” he went on, “for I'm a regular burglar, too,” and from the bulging pockets of his coat he drew two handfuls of greenbacks and jewelry. The eyes of the six registered astonishment, mixed with craft and greed. “I just robbed a house in Oakdale,” explained the boy. “I usually rob one every night.”      

       For a moment his auditors were too surprised to voice a single emotion; but presently one murmured, soulfully: 
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