"They deserve 'em," sez the little man. "What does it mean to steal?"

"Why, any fool knows what stealin' is," sez I. "It's takin' something that don't belong to you."

"How can you tell what does belong to you," he sez, leanin' forward as if he was makin' a point.

I looked at him an' saw that he really thought he was talkin' sense, so I sez: "You go talk to some one else. I'm too sleepy an' I'm too blame sore to bother with such nonsense."

"It ain't nonsense," sez he. "I'm an edicated man, an' I been studyin'

life ever since I been born. My father was a preacher across the water, an' I got arrested for stealin' a bottle of whiskey when I wasn't nothin' but a boy. The whole family was disgraced on account of me, an'

my father told 'em to go ahead an' give it to me hard. Now I stole that whiskey on a dare, an' I stole it from a good church member; but all the rest of my life I been stretchin' that there commandment until I tell you the whole human race is one set o' thieves."

Well, I was purty sleepy, but the little old man had an eye in him like a headlight, an' he just made you listen to him. "The' ain't no sense in your slingin' mud that way," sez I. "The' 's lots of men 'at wouldn't steal, if they had a chance."

"If I ruin my const.i.tution through depravity, is it stealin'?" sez he.

"No," sez I, "it's darn foolishness."

"It is stealin'," sez he, "just as much as if I help to waste natural products what can't be replaced--stealin' from the children of the next generation, an' all the followin' generations."

"What rights have they got?" I sez, losin' my patience. "They ain't even born yet."

"Did you ever see a baby?" sez he.

"Yes," I sez, "I bet I've seen a dozen of 'em."

"Well," sez he, "was they polite? Did they beg for what they wanted?

Did they have any doubt but that they'd be plenty of everything to go around?"

"Not them what I saw," sez I. "They'd give one little coo, to see if any one was handy, an' then they'd holler an' yell an' scold an' fuss until they got what they wanted."

"Do you suppose if they didn't have any rights they'd have the nerve to carry on that way?" sez he.

"Rights!" sez I. "They didn't have to have rights--they had mothers."

Well, that set him back a good ways, an' by the time he had thought up some new stuff I was asleep; but he shook me awake an' sez, "Of course the child's mother will do all she can; but supposin' she ain't got what the child wants--how'll she explain it to him?"

"She won't bother explainin' nothin' to a baby," sez I. "She'll just send the old man out to get it."

He looked sort o' disgusted like, as if he wasn't used to arguin' with a man what could handle logic an' make points. "You're just like the rest," sez he. "What I mean is, that every man who has ever been on earth is just sort of an overseer for them what is yet to come. We have the right to use everything we want in the right way, but we haven't any right to waste it or destroy it, or hog it up so that all can't enjoy it. Why, when you start to savin' an' draw in what ought to be circulatin', you steal from them what haven't had the chance 'at you've had. It's wicked to be thrifty."

"Well, you're the craziest one I've seen yet," sez I, laughin'. "Why, if you had your way you'd utterly ruin business."

"Business!" he yells, gettin' excited. "Do you know what business is?"

I thought a moment. "I don't know all the' is to know about it," sez I, "but I expect to give it a fair good work-out before I'm through with it."

"Business," he sez, leanin' across the table an' hittin' it with his finger-nail, "business is simply havin' the laws fixed so you can steal without havin' to pay any fine. What is business? Ain't it figgerin'

an' schemin' to get away from a man whatever he happens to have? That's nothin' but stealin'."

"Confound you," sez I, "do you mean to say that just because I'm goin'

to engage in business I'm a thief?"

He looked at me a moment an' then he shook his head. "No," he sez, "you won't never be that kind, you'll be some other kind; but that's about all business is--just thievery. Why, I once knew two men 'at was the best friends 'at ever lived; an' they just ruined their lives 'cause they couldn't resist the temptation of each tryin' to grab all. It was over the Creole Belle--"

"Yes, but she was a woman!" I yells, jumpin' to my feet, an' leanin'

over the table.

"No, it was a mine," sez he, sittin' still.

"A Creole is a cross-breed woman 'at came from New Orleans," sez I; "an' when they're good lookin' enough, they call 'em belles."

"Well this here mine 'at I'm goin' to tell you about was called the Creole Belle," he sez. "For a longtime it didn't pay to amount to anything, an' then it began to pay; an' the two friends got covetous, an' first George had Jack killed an' then he gets killed himself by Jack's--"

"No, he wasn't killed," I snaps in like a blame fool.

The old man looked at me with his little shiny eyes all scrouged up.

"Who wasn't killed?" he sez, slow an' cautious. "Why, George Jordan wasn't killed," I sez.

"What would a kid like you know about it" sez he.

"Well, I do know 'at he wasn't killed," I sez. "I been workin' for him; he don't live but a short way from here. Tell the the whole story. I'll make it worth your while. Come on, what'll you have to drink?"

He leaned forward with his hand clutchin' at his side, an' his pink checks gray an' twisted. He coughed a dry, short cough, an' groans out between his set teeth. "It 's my heart; I got a b.u.m pump. You tell George Jordan that I never breathed a word of it, but that Jack Whitman--Oh, my G.o.d! Get me a drink of whiskey! Get me a drink of h.e.l.l-fire!"

He doubled up, grabbin' an' clawin' at his breast while I jumped to the bar yellin' for whiskey. I grabbed the bottle an' hustled back to him, but he was all crumpled up on the floor. We straightened him out an'

rubbed his wrists an' poured whiskey down his throat, an' after a while he opened his eyes. The minute his senses got back to him he clutched at his heart again, rollin' an' writhin', an' makin' noises like a wounded beast. "I knew it would end this way," he gasped. "I'm goin'

out now, but listen to what I say"--he helt his breath to keep from coughin'--"the' ain't no sin but stealin'. Don't never take nothin'

that don't belong to ya."

All his muscles grew rigid an' twisted, an' then a smile came on his face an' he sank back. They had the doctor there by that time, but the'

wasn't anything to be done, except to give a big heathen name to what had been the matter with him. There he lay on the bar-room floor; the'

was filth an' refuse all around him, but the smile on his face was just plumb satisfied, an' yet it was a knowledgeable smile too. I could 'a'

cried when I thought that this man, who could have told little Barbie what she wanted to know, had wasted all that time tryin' to convince me that business an' stealin' was all one. What he knew wouldn't do him a mite o' good, wherever he was; an' yet the' wasn't any way on earth to bring him back long enough to have him tell it.

They told me his name was Sandy Fergoson, an' that he was harmless crazy. He used to float around doin' odd jobs an' talkin' nonsense about stealin'; but n.o.body knew where he had come from, so I chipped in a little something to help bury him, an' gave up the rest of my money for a ticket to Frisco.

I didn't enjoy that trip to Frisco; business didn't seem so attractive when you once set out to find her, an' then again, I was broke. I don't mind bein' broke when I 'm on the range 'cause a feller can pick up a job anywhere; but I wasn't city-wise, an' I didn't know how long it would take me to track down the kind o' business I wanted to engage in.

I suppose cities must suit some folks, or they wouldn't keep on livin'

in 'em; but cities sure don't suit me. I allus had a kind of an idea from what Sloc.u.m had told me that I'd enjoy the bankin' business, so I applied to the banks first. They're a blame offish set, bankers. They didn't laugh at me,--leastwise not until after I'd gone out,--but they didn't offer much encouragement. I tramped around that city for four days, an' by the time I finally got located in business my appet.i.te was tearin' around inside my empty body till I couldn't sleep nights. Oh, it was not joyful! I had taken the position of porter in a mammoth big drygoods store, an' I was some glad when noon arrived; but no one called me to partake of dinner, so I went up to a young lad, an' sez, "Where do they spread it?"

"Spread what?" sez he.

"Dinner," sez I.

"I bring mine with me," sez he.

"Is the grub that rotten?" sez I.