CHAPTER V

SANDY RETIRES FROM BUSINESS


"This here is too blame slow fer me," said Ricks, one chilly night in
late September, as he and Sandy huddled against a haystack and settled
up their weekly accounts.

"Fifty-five cents! Now ain't that a' o'nery dab? Here's a quarter fer
you and thirty cents fer me; that's as even as you kin split it."

"It's the microscopes that'll be sellin'," said Sandy, hopefully, as
he pulled his coat collar about his ears and shivered. "The man as
sold 'em to me said they was a great bargain entirely. He thought
there was money in 'em."

"For him," said Ricks, contemptuously. "It's like the man what gulled
us on the penknives. I lay to git even with him, all right."

"But he give us the night's lodgin' and some breakfast," said Sandy.

Ricks took a long drink from a short bottle, then holding it before
him, he said impressively: "A feller could do me ninety-nine good
turns, and if he done me one bad one it would wipe 'em all out. I got
to git even with anybody what does me dirty, if it takes me all my
life."