Tom wondered at it, and then, ascribing the use of the
better language to the fright caused by being hit by the machine,
the lad thought no more about it at the time. There was occasion,
however, when he attached more meaning to it.
"I'm very sorry," went on Tom. "I'm sure I didn't mean to. You see,
I was going quite slowly, and--"
"You call dat slow, when youse hit me an' knocked me down?" demanded
the tramp. "I'd oughter have youse arrested, dat's what, an' I would
if dere was a cop handy."
"I wasn't going at all fast," said Tom, a little nettled that his
conciliatory words should be so rudely received. "If I had been
going full speed I'd have knocked you fifty feet."
"It's a good thing. Cracky, den I'm glad dat youse wasn't goin' like
dat," and the tramp seemed somewhat confused. This time Tom looked
at him more closely, for the change in his language had been very
plain. The fellow seemed uneasy, and turned his face away. As he did
so Tom caught a glimpse of what he was sure was a false beard. It
was altogether too well-kept a beard to be a natural one for such a
dirty tramp as this one appeared to be.
"That fellow's disguised!" Tom thought. "He's playing a part. I
wonder if I'd better take chances and spring it on him that I'm on
to his game?"
Then the ragged man spoke again:
"I s'pose it was part my fault, cully.
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