"It's all right," said he, when he had succeeded in silencing them. "If there are a hundred dollars to be made honestly, I don't know why we should turn our backs upon it. We've a long run before us, our expenses will be heavy—"
"That's the idea!" exclaimed the now smiling stranger. "I don't suppose that your fathers are as liberal with you as they might be. I know mine wasn't, and that my supply of pocket-money was mighty slim when I had to depend upon him for it. Where's the cash?"
"Hand over the purse," replied Joe.
"Let me see first that you have twenty-five dollars to give me," was the answer.
"I'm a wheelman," said Joe, severely. "And my machine is a passport to the best society in the land—eh?"
"Of course; of course. But you see—"
"And would I be admitted to the best society in the land if I were untruthful or dishonest?" continued Joe, while his two friends wondered what in the world he meant by addressing the stranger in his own words. "Hand over what
