When Mr. Tarbox came to understand how he had been hoaxed by the boys he was furious, but his anger was ineffectual, for there seemed no way in which he could retaliate. He had had his opportunity in the woods, but that had passed, and was not likely to come again. Meanwhile he found it hard to bear the jocose inquiries of his neighbors touching his encounter with the "tiger."

For instance, the next day he met the constable in the street.

"How are you, Mr. Tarbox?" inquired Spriggins, smiling.

"Well enough," growled Tarbox, quickening his pace.

"I hear you had an adventure with a tiger yesterday," said the constable, with a waggish smile.

"Suppose I did!" he snapped.

"Ho, ho! Were you very much frightened?" continued the constable.

"I wasn't half so much scared as you were when I wanted you to arrest the giant."

It was the constable's turn to look embarrassed. "Who said I was afraid?"

"It was enough to look at you," said Tarbox.

"Well, maybe I was a little flustered," admitted Spriggins. "Who wouldn't be afraid of a man ten feet high? They do say, Tarbox, that you did some pretty tall running, and there wasn't no tiger loose after all."

And Mr. Constable indulged in a chuckle which irritated the farmer intensely. He resolved to retaliate.

"Do you know where I am goin', Spriggins?" he asked.

"No."

"Then I'll tell you," answered Tarbox, with a malicious smile. "I'm goin' to Squire Price to get another warrant for the arrest of Anak—I've found out that that's his name—and I'm goin' to get you to serve it."

The constable's countenance changed. "Don't be foolish, Mr. Tarbox," he said.

"I understand my business, Spriggins, and I shall expect you to do yours. I'll see you again in half an hour."

"I may not be at home; I expect I've got to go over to Medville."

"Then put it off. Your duty to the State is ahead of all private business."

He went on his way leaving Mr. Spriggins in a very uneasy frame of mind. When he went home to supper, he said to his wife: "Mrs. S., after supper I'm going up into the attic, and if Nathan Tarbox comes round and asks for me, you say that I'm out of town."

"But it wouldn't be true, Spriggins," replied his wife.

"I know it won't; but he wants me to arrest the giant, and it's as much as my life is worth," answered the constable, desperately. "I don't think I'm a coward, but I ain't a match for a giant."

The farmer, however, did not come round. He had only made the statement to frighten Spriggins, and retaliate upon him for his joke about the tiger.

In the afternoon Robert, while out for a walk, fell in with one of the canvas men, a rough-looking fellow, named, or at least he called himself, Carden. Canvas men, as may be inferred from the name, are employed in putting up and taking down the circus tent, and are generally an inferior set of men, not differing much from the professional tramp. Robert, who, in spite of his asseverations, had considerable self-respect and proper pride, never mingled much with them, and for that reason was looked upon as "putting on airs." His friend, Charlie Davis, was much more popular with them.

"Hallo, Robert," said Carden, familiarly.

The canvas man was smoking a short, dirty clay pipe, and would have made an admirable model for a picture of a tramp.

"Hello, Carden!" said Robert, coolly.

"Walkin' for your health?" asked the canvas man, in the same disagreeably familiar tone.

"Partly."

Carden was walking by his side, and Robert did not like the familiarity which this would seem to imply.

"Pretty good town, this!" continued Carden, socially.

"Yes."

"Sorry I haven't another pipe to offer you, Robert, my boy."

"Thank you; I shouldn't use it."

"Don't mean to say you don't smoke, eh, Bob?"

"I don't smoke."

"That is, not a pipe—I dare say you wouldn't mind a cigar or cigarette, now."

"I don't smoke at all now. I did once, but found it was injuring me, and gave it up."

"Oh, it won't hurt you. I've smoked since I was a chap so high"—indicating a point about three feet from the ground—"and I ain't dead yet."

Robert did not reply to this, but looked around anxiously for some pretext to leave his unwelcome companion.

Just then they passed a wayside saloon.

"Come in, Bob, and have a drink!" said Carden, laying his hand upon the boy's shoulder. "It'll do you good to whet your whistle."

"No, thank you," said Robert, shrinking from the man's touch.

"Oh, don't be foolish. A little whiskey'll do you good."

"Thank you, I would rather not."

Meantime Carden was searching in his pocket for a silver coin, but his search was fruitless.

"I say, Bob, I am out of tin. Come in and treat?"

"You must excuse me, Mr. Carden," said Robert, coldly.

"Come, don't be stingy! You get good pay, and can afford to stand treat. We poor canvas men only have $15 a month."

"If this will do you any good," said Robert, producing a silver quarter, "you are welcome to it."

"Thank you; you'd better come in, too."

Robert sacrificed the coin to regain his freedom, as Carden's entering the saloon seemed to offer the only mode of release.

"What a stuck-up young jackanapes!" muttered Carden, as he entered the saloon. "He thinks a deal of himself, and don't want to have nought to do with me because I'm a poor canvas man. I doubt he's got a good deal of money hid away somewhere, for he don't spend much. I heard Charlie Davis say the other day Bob had $200."

Carden's eyes glittered with cupidity as the thought passed through his mind.

"I'd like to get hold of it," he muttered to himself. "It would be a fortune for a poor canvas man, and he wouldn't miss it, for he could soon gain as much more. I wonder where he keeps it."

"It's the worst of the life I lead," said Robert to himself, as he walked on, "that I am thrown into the company of such men as that. It isn't because they are poor that I object to them, for I am not rich myself; but a man needn't be low because he is poor and earning small pay. I suppose Carden and the other canvas men think I am proud because I don't seek their company, but they are mistaken. I have nothing in common with them, except that we are all in the employ of the same manager. Besides, I do talk with Madigan. He is a canvas man, but he has had a good education and is fitted for something better, and only takes up with this rather than be idle."

Half an hour after, Charlie Davis joined him.

"Rob," said Charlie, "I met Carden, just now. He was half drunk, and pitching into you."

"He ought not, for I had just lent him a quarter."

"He said you were too proud to drink with him."

"That is true, though I wouldn't drink with one I had more respect for."

"He asked me where you kept your money. You'd better look out for him."

"I shall. I have no doubt he is capable of robbing me, and I would rather spend my own money myself."

"I'm not afraid of his robbing me," said Charlie.

"No, I suppose not; but I wish you would save some of your money, so as to have something worth stealing."

"Oh, I'll begin to save sometime."

It was perhaps the thought of this conversation that led Robert in the evening after the entertainment was over, or rather after his part of it was over, to walk round to one of the circus wagons, in which, in a small closet, he kept some of his clothing and the whole of his money.

As he came up he saw in the darkness the crouching figure of a man trying the lock of his compartment with one of a bunch of keys he held in his hand.