But a change had come upon him with advancing years. Although the
grown people in sight were indeed to him as walking trees, his
dramas were accomplished principally by suggestion and symbol.
His "Whoas" and "Bings" were delivered in a husky whisper, and
his equestrianism was established by action mostly of the mind,
the accompanying artistry of the feet being unintelligible to the
passerby.

And yet, though he concealed from observation the stirring little
scenes he thus enacted, a love of realism was increasing within
him. Early childhood is not fastidious about the accessories of
its drama--a cane is vividly a gun which may instantly, as
vividly, become a horse; but at Penrod's time of life the lath
sword is no longer satisfactory. Indeed, he now had a vague sense
that weapons of wood were unworthy to the point of being
contemptible and ridiculous, and he employed them only when he
was alone and unseen. For months a yearning had grown more and
more poignant in his vitals, and this yearning was symbolized by
one of his most profound secrets. In the inner pocket of his
jacket, he carried a bit of wood whittled into the distant
likeness of a pistol, but not even Sam Williams had seen it. The
wooden pistol never knew the light of day, save when Penrod was
in solitude; and yet it never left his side except at night, when
it was placed under his pillow. Still, it did not satisfy; it was
but the token of his yearning and his dream. With all his might
and main Penrod longed for one thing beyond all others. He wanted
a Real Pistol!

That was natural. Pictures of real pistols being used to
magnificently romantic effect were upon almost all the billboards