"Why, you hain't even got a satchel! You come walkin' in like a tramp."

"There's tramps--and tramps," said Scattergood, placidly. He reached far
down into a trousers pocket and tugged to the light of day a roll that
his fingers could not encircle. He looked at it fondly, tossed it up in
the air a couple of times and caught it, and then held it between thumb
and forefinger until the eyes of his audience had assured themselves
that the outside bill was yellow and its denomination twenty dollars....
The audience gulped.

"Meals to the tavern perty good?" Coldriver's new citizen asked.

"Say," demanded Locker, "be you really thinkin' about startin' a cash
store here?"

"Neighbor," said Scattergood, "never give up valuable information
without gittin' somethin' for it. How much money would a complete and
careful account of my intentions be worth to you?"

Locker snorted. "Bet that wad of bills is a dummy with a counterfeit
twenty outside of it," he said.

Scattergood smiled tantalizingly. Locker had not, fortunately for
Scattergood, the least idea how close to the truth he had been. On one
point only had he been mistaken. The twenty outside was _not_
counterfeit. However, except for three fives, four twos, and ninety
cents in silver, it represented Scattergood's total cash capital.

"I'm goin'," said Scattergood, "to order me _two_ suppers. Two! From
bean soup to apple pie. It's my birthday. Twenty-six to-day, and I