"And they fight?"

"Like billy-o," said Paul.

They reached the van. Barney Bill, surprisingly agile in spite of
his twisted leg, sprang into the interior. Paul, standing between
the shafts, looked in with curiosity. There was a rough though not
unclean bed running down one side. Beyond, at the stern, so to
speak, was a kind of galley containing cooking stove, kettle and
pot. There were shelves, some filled with stock-in-trade, others
with miscellaneous things, the nature of which he could not
distinguish in the gloom. Barney Bill presently turned and dumped an
armful of books on the footboard an inch or two below Paul's nose.
Paul scanned the title pages. They were: Goldsmith's "Animated
Nature," "Enquire Within Upon Everything," an old bound volume of
"Cassell's Family Reader," "The Remains of Henry Kirke White," and
"Martin Chuzzlewit." The owner looked down upon them proudly.

"I've got some more, but I can't get at 'em."

Paul regarded him with envy. This was a man of great possessions.
"How long are yo' going to stay here?" he asked hopefully.

"Till sunrise to-morrow."

Paul's face fell. He seemed to have no luck nowadays.

Barney Bill let himself down to a sitting position on the footboard
and reached to the end for a huge pork pie and a clasp knife which
lay beside a tin can. "I'll go on with my supper," said he; then