Ralph’s mother had done her duty in seeing to it that he was not put out by her absence. He now proceeded to do his by clearing up the table and washing the dishes. He had everything in order before he left the house.
He sauntered downtown, changed a twenty-dollar bill that was among those the circus manager had given him, and started down a humble side street.
In about ten minutes Ralph reached the Stiggs home. It was a small one-story structure, but comfortable-looking and well-kept.
In the garden was a small summerhouse. A spark of light directed Ralph thither. It appeared that Stiggs was banished from the house while using his favorite weed. This was his "smokery."
Before Ralph could announce his presence, someone spoke from an open window of the house.
"John Jacob Stiggs--smoke! smoke! smoke!" proclaimed a high-pitched voice-. "I should think you’d be ashamed--at it all the time. If you are so valuable to your railroad cronies why don’t you bring home a chicken, or a watermelon, or a bag of potatoes once in a while, instead of your perpetual ’plug cut,’ and ’cut loaf,’ and ’killmequick’? Oh, dear! dear! you are such a trial."
"That’s so--never thought of that," responded Stiggs from his snuggery, in his usual quiet way. "But, my dear, something is coming. Some money--you know I told you."
"Nonsense!" retorted Mrs. Stiggs violently. "They stuff you full of all kinds of stories. Last week you said they were going to make you master mechanic."
"I declined it! I declined it!" answered Stiggs in quick trepidation. "The responsibility of the position--think of it, my dear!"
"Well, I suppose you’re my cross," sighed his helpmate patiently. "Only, don’t get a woman’s hopes all alive with your story of five dollars coming, and a new shawl for me."
"Ten, my dear," interrupted Stiggs. "I’ve quite forgotten the amount, but I am sure it was more than five. You see, I helped catch a tiger----"
"John Jacob Stiggs!" cried his wife severely, "you’d better keep those wild notions out of your head. Tigers! Who ever saw a tiger in Stanley Junction?" she sniffed disdainfully.
"Why, I did, Mrs. Stiggs," broke in Ralph, stepping to the window with a pleasant smile, and lifting his cap politely. "It escaped from the circus now in town. Your husband helped me get it into the hands of the show people, they paid us fifty dollars’ reward for our services, and half of it belongs to Mr. Stiggs. There is his share, madam."