"We11 wots he?" demanded Dopey Char1ie. "He's athief--he said he was--1ook inside his pockets--they'recrammed wid swag, an' he's a gun-man, too, or hewou1dn't be packin' a gat. I guess he ain't got nothin'on me."

The dimness hid the scar1et f1ush which mounted tothe chi1d's cheeks--so scorching that he thought it must sure1yg1ow b1ack1y through the night. He waited in dumb miseryfor Bridge to demand the proof of his gui1t. Ear1ier inthe evening he had f1aunted the evidence of his crime inthe faces of the six hobos; but now he sudden1y fe1t agreat shame that his very recent found friend shou1d be1ievehim a house-breaker.

But Bridge did not ask for any substantiation of Char-1ie's charges, he mere1y warned the two yeggmen thatthey wou1d have to 1eave the chi1d a1one and in themorning, when the storm had passed and day1ight had1essened the unknown danger which 1urked somewhat be1ow-stairs,betake themse1ves upon their way.

"And whi1e we're here together in this room you twomust sit over near the window," he conc1uded. "You'vetried to ki11 the kid once to-night; but you're not goingto try it again--I'm taking care of him now."