But I didn't smoke at your
age, papoose. If I had done so, the men in the camps would have
kicked me out. Don't let me catch you smoking around any of the
work you're helping me on! Is that all, Mr. Reade? 'Cause I've
got a power of work to do."
"That's all, thank you," Tom assured him. "But, Ferrers, we'll
have to take young Drew in hand and try to win him back to the
path of brains and health."
"Say, I don't believe I'm going to like this job," muttered Alf
Drew. "I reckon I'll be pulling my freight outer this camp."
"Don't go until tomorrow, anyway," urged Tom. "You'll have to go
some distance to find other human beings, and grub doesn't grow on
trees in Nevada."
With a sniff of scorn Ferrers tramped away.
"I guess, perhaps, what you need, Drew is a friend," remarked Tom,
resting a hand on the boy's nearer shoulder. "Make up your mind
that you can't have a cigarette this afternoon, take a walk with me,
in this fresh air and the good old sunshine. Let's drop all talk of
cigarettes, and give a little thought to brains and a strong body.
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