Mr. Addicks laughed dryly. "You're a remarkable young thinker, Shaw. I thought, by the way you were looking at my hand, that maybe I needed a manicure. Hello, going?"
"Yes, sir, I guess we'd better be getting home," said Perry. "We've enjoyed your—our visit."
"Have you? Well, I have, anyway. I was just naturally bored to death when you came. When you hear me trying to sing you'll know it's because I'm bored. Drop in again soon, fellows. I'm usually in in the mornings. Come around and I'll teach you that song." He chuckled as he opened the door for them. "I know some others too. 'Sam Bass,' for instance. I know thirty-four verses of 'Sam Bass,' and that's three more than any other chap at the 'Lazy K' knew!"
It was not until they were in the street that either of the boys spoke. Then Perry asked wonderingly: "For the love of mud, Fudge, what was the matter with you? You looked like a dying fish!"
"D-d-d-didn't you see?" asked Fudge tensely.
"See what?"
"The wh-wh-wh-white s-s-scar!"
"What white scar? Where?"
"On his arm!" replied Fudge, hoarsely, triumphantly. "The l-l-left one!"
