l out of its hole.

He coaxed, he wheedled, he bantered, he abused,--he even threatened. He
fulfilled his promise to the letter, "to make the well men think that
they were sick," and many a stalwart frontiersman whose body was as
sound as an ox, began to be conscious of racking pains.

Nor were those legitimate arts of oratory the only ones which this
arch-knave practiced.

"I gave you two dollars, and you only gave me change for one," cried a
thin-faced, stoop-shouldered, helpless-looking fellow, who had just
purchased a bottle of the "Balm of the Blessed Islands."

With lightning-like legerdemain the quack had shuffled this bill to the
bottom of his pile, and lifting up the one that lay on top, exposed it
to the view of his audience.

"That's a lie!" he said, in his slow, impressive manner. "There is
always such a man as this in every crowd. Some one is always trying to
take advantage of those who, like myself, are living for the public
good. Gentlemen, you saw me lay the b-b-bill he gave me down upon the
top! Here it is; judge for yourselves. That is a bad man! Beware of
him!"

The bold effrontery of the quack silenced the timid customer, who could
only blush and look confused. His blushes and confusion condemned him
and the crowd hustled him away from the wagon. They believed him guilty
and he half believed it of himself.

David, who had seen the bill and knew the victim's innocence but not the
doctor's fraud, pressed forward to defend him. The quack stopped and
silenced him with an inimitable wink, and then instantly and with
consummate art diverted his auditors with a series of droll stories
which he always reserved for emergencies like this. They were old and
thread-bare, but this was the reason he chose them. He had one for
every circumstance and occasion.

There was a man standing in an outer circle of the crowd around whose
forehead was a bandage. "Come here, my friend," said the quack. "How did
you get this wound? Don't want to tell? Oh! well, that is natural. A
horse kicked him, no doubt; never got it in a row! No! No! Couldn't any
one hit him! Reminds me of the man who saw a big black-and-blue spot on
his boy's forehead. 'My son,' said he, 'I thought I told you not to
fight? How did you get this wound?' 'I bit it, father,' replied the boy.

"'Bit it!' exclaimed the old man in astonishment, 'how could you bite
yourself upon the forehead?'

"'I climbed onto a chair,' says he.

"And have you been