d try brashly to grab the forty or
fifty acres of granite and scrub and steep mountain wall that his heart
desired. Instead, he basked in the sunshine, twiddling his bare toes
ecstatically, and let the huge bulk of him sink more contentedly into
the well-reinforced armchair which creaked under his slightest motion.

Scattergood glanced across the dusty square to the post office. The mail
was in, and possibly there were letters there for him. He thought it
very likely, and he wanted to see them--but movement was repulsive to
his bulging body. He sighed and closed his eyes. A shrill whistle
attempting the national anthem, with certain liberties of variation,
caused him to open them again, and he saw, passing him, a small boy,
apparently without an object in life.

"A-hum!" said Scattergood.

The boy stopped and looked inquiringly.

"If I knew," said Scattergood to his bare feet, "where there was a boy
that could find his way across to the post office and back without
gittin' sunstroke or stone bruise, I dunno but I'd give him a penny to
fetch my mail."

"It's worth a nickel," said the boy.

"Give you two cents," said Scattergood.

"Nickel or nothin'," said the boy.

Scattergood scrutinized the boy a moment, then surrendered.

"Bargain," said he, but as the boy hustled across the square
Scattergood heaved himself out of his chair and padded inside the store.
He stood scratching his head a moment and then removed a tin object from
a card holding eleven more of its like. With it in his hand, he returned
to his chair and resettled himself cautiously, for to apply his weight
suddenly might have resulted in disaster.

The boy was returning. Scattergood placed the tin object to his lips and
puffed out his bulging cheeks. A sound resulted such as the ears of
Coldriver had seldom suffered. It was shrill, it was penetrating, it
rose and fell with a sort of ripping, tearing slash. The boy stopped in
front of Scattergood and stared. Without a word Scattergood held out his
hand for his mail, and, receiving it, placed a nickel in the grimy palm
that remained extended. Then, apparently oblivious to the boy's
existence, he applied himself again to the whistle.

"Say," said the boy, "what's that?"

"Patent whistle," said Scattergood, without interest.

"Is it your'n, or is it for sale?"

"Calculate I might sell."

"How much?"

"Nickel."

"Gimme it," said the boy, and Scattergood gravely received back his
coin.

"M