onstruction," he said to himself, "but that's not saying they
know all about refreshment shacks. I bet they don't know any more about
eats than I do." Which in all probability was the case.

On the way back to the farm, Pee-wee noticed in a field the most
outlandish scarecrow he had ever seen. It was sitting on a stone wall,
and it must have been a brave crow that would have ventured within
a mile of that ridiculous bundle of rags. The face was effectually
concealed by a huge hat as is the case with most scarecrows, and all the
cast-off clothing of Everdoze for centuries back seemed combined here in
incongruous array.

What was Pee-wee's consternation when he beheld this figure actually
descend from the fence and come shambling over toward him. If the legs
were not on stilts they were certainly the longest legs he had ever
seen, and they must have been suspended by a kind of universal joint for
they moved in every direction while bringing their burden forward.

Upon this absurd being's closer approach, Pee-wee perceived it to be
a negro as thin and tall as a clothes pole, and so black that the
blackness of sin would seem white by comparison and the arctic night
like the blazing rays of midsummer. This was Licorice Stick whose home
was nowhere in particular, whose profession was everything and chiefly
nothing.

"I done seed yer comin'," he said with a smile a mile long which shone
in the surrounding darkness like the midnight sun of Norway. His teeth
were as conspicuous as tombstones, and on close inspection Pee-wee saw
that his tattered regalia was held together by a system of safety pins
placed at strategic points. The terrible responsibility of suspenders
was borne by a single strand consisting of a key ring chain connected
with a shoe lace and this ran through a harness pin which, if the worst
came to the worst, would act as a sort of emergency stop. Licorice Stick
was built in the shape of a right angle, his feet being almost as long
as his body and they flapped down like carpet beaters when he walked.

"You stayin' wib Uncle Eb?" he asked. "I seed yer yes' day. I done hear
yer start a sto."

"A what?" Pee-wee asked, as they walked along together.

"A sto-- you sell eats, hey?"

"Oh, you mean a store," Pee-wee said.

"I help you," said the lanky stranger; "me'n Pepsy, we good friends. She
hab to go back to dat workhouse, de bridge it say so. Dat bridge am a
sperrit."

"You're crazy," Pee-wee said. "What'