nt and extravagant customer, was purchasing of the boy, who sat
behind a counter improvised from a nail-keg and the front seat, most of
the available contents of the wagon, either under their own names or an
imaginary one as the moment suggested, and paying for them in the easy
and liberal currency of dried beans and bits of paper. Change was given
by the expeditious method of tearing the paper into smaller fragments.
The diminution of stock was remedied by buying the same article over
again under a different name. Nevertheless, in spite of these favorable
commercial conditions, the market seemed dull.

"I can show you a fine quality of sheeting at four cents a yard, double
width," said the boy, rising and leaning on his fingers on the counter
as he had seen the shopmen do. "All wool and will wash," he added, with
easy gravity.

"I can buy it cheaper at Jackson's," said the girl, with the intuitive
duplicity of her bargaining sex.

"Very well," said the boy. "I won't play any more."

"Who cares?" said the girl indifferently. The boy here promptly upset
the counter; the rolled-up blanket which had deceitfully represented the
desirable sheeting falling on the wagon floor. It apparently suggested
a new idea to the former salesman. "I say! let's play 'damaged stock.'
See, I'll tumble all the things down here right on top o' the others,
and sell 'em for less than cost."

The girl looked up. The suggestion was bold, bad, and momentarily
attractive. But she only said "No," apparently from habit, picked up her
doll, and the boy clambered to the front of the wagon. The incomplete
episode terminated at once with that perfect forgetfulness,
indifference, and irresponsibility common to all young animals. If
either could have flown away or bounded off finally at that moment, they
would have done so with no more concern for preliminary detail than a
bird or squirrel. The wagon rolled steadily on. The boy could see that
one of the teamsters had climbed up on the tail-board of the preceding
vehicle. The other seemed to be walking in a dusty sleep.

"Kla'uns," said the girl.

The boy, without turning his head, responded, "Susy."

"Wot are you going to be?" said the girl.

"Goin' to be?" repeated Clarence.

"When you is growed," explained Susy.

Clarence hesitated. His settled determination had been to become a
pirate, merciless yet discriminating. But reading in a bethumbed "Guide
to the Plains" that morning of Fort Lamarie