l's heels.

"I don't see," said the countryman, "why you fellers don't get out
some'rs an' go to work. They's enough men in this crowd to make a crop
big enough to feed a whole county, ef they'd git out in the field an'
buckle down to it stidder loafin' roun' watchin' 'em spurt water at
nothin'. It's a dad-blamed shame that the courts don't take a han' in
the matter. Ef you lived in my county, you'd have to work or go to the
poor-house. Whoa, Beck! Gee, Buck! Why don't you gee, contrive your
hide!"

At a touch from the whip, the rearing, plunging, and kicking of the mule
were renewed, and the team managed to fight its way to a point opposite
where the chief officials of the Police and Fire Department were
standing. The waggon to which the team was attached was a ramshackle
affair apparently, but was strong enough, nevertheless, to sustain the
weight of three bales of cotton, one of the bales being somewhat larger
than the others.

"My friend," said the Chief of Police, elevating his voice so that the
countryman could hear him distinctly, "this is not a warehouse. If you
want to sell your cotton, carry it around the corner yonder, and there
you'll find the warehouse of Vardeman & Stark."

"If I want to sell my cotton? Well, you don't reckon I want to give it
away, do you? Way over yander in the fur eend of town, they told me that
the cotton warehouse was down here some'rs, an' that it was made of
brick. This shebang is down yander, an' it's made of brick. How fur is
t'other place?"

"Right around the corner," said one in the crowd.

"Humph--yes; that's the way wi' ever'thing in this blamed town; it's
uther down yander, or right around the corner. But ef it was right here,
how could I git to it? Deliver me from places whar they celebrate
Christmas in the hottest part of June! Ef I ever git out'n the town
you'll never ketch me here ag'in--I'll promise you that."

"Oh, Mister, please don't say that!" wailed some humourist in the crowd.
"There's hundreds of us that couldn't live without you."

"Oh, is that you?" cried the countryman. "Tell your sister Molly that
I'll be down as soon as I sell my cotton." This set the crowd in a roar,
for though the humourist had no sister Molly, the retort was accepted as
a very neat method of putting an end to impertinence.

Inside the station another scene was in the full swing of action.
Certain well-known citizens of Halcyondale had been pacing up and down
the planked floor of