kivers ye?"

Thus Pearce Tallam had disputed his right to sell the mare. But it had
more than once occurred to him that the blacksmith would not object to
Jube's buying her.

Hitherto Ike had not coveted Jube's variegated possessions. But now he
wanted money for schooling. It was true he could hardly turn these into
cash, for in this region farm produce of every description is received
at the country stores in exchange for powder, salt, and similar
necessities, and thus there is little need for money, and very little is
in circulation.

Still, Ike reflected that he might now and then get a small sum at the
store, or perhaps the schoolmaster might barter "l'arnin'" for the
heifer or the shoats.

His hesitation was not lost upon Jube, who offered a culminating
inducement to clinch the trade. He suddenly stood erect, teetered
fantastically on one foot, as if about to begin to dance, and held out a
glittering silver dollar.

The hammer fell from Ike's hands upon the anvil. "'Twar ye ez Grig
Beemy war a-waitin' fur thar on the mounting in the mist!" he cried out,
recognizing the man's odd gesture, which Jube had unconsciously
imitated.

Doubtless the dollar was offered to Jube afterward, exactly as it had
been offered to him. And Jube had taken it. The imitative monkey thrust
it hastily into his pocket, and came down from his fantastic toe, and
stood soberly enough on his two feet.

"Grig Beemy gin ye that thar dollar," said Ike.

Jube sullenly denied it. "He never, now!"

"His critter hev got no call ter be in dad's barn."

"His critter ain't hyar," protested Jube. "This dollar war gin me in
trade ter the settle_mint_."

Ike remembered the queer gesture. How could Jube have repeated it if he
had not seen it? He broke into a sarcastic laugh.

"That's how kem ye war so powerful 'commodatin' ez ter feed the
critters. Ye 'lowed ez I wouldn't see the strange beastis, an' then tell
dad. Foolin' me war a part o' yer trade, I reckon."

Jube made no reply.

"Ef ye war ez big ez me, or bigger, I'd thrash ye out'n yer boots fur
this trick. Ye don't want no lenks ter yer chain. Ye jes' want ter be
sure o' keepin' me out'n the barn. Waal--thar air yer lenks."

He caught up the tongs and held the links in the fire with one hand
while he worked the bellows with the other. Then he laid them red-hot
upon the anvil. His rapid blows crushed them to a shapeless mass. "And
now--thar they ain't."

Jube did not linger long.