"Well, perhaps it's all for the best," sez the sad one. "I ain't no millionaire, but I offered him thirty-seven dollars for that pony. He doubted that I'd take good care of him, so he wouldn't sell him to me. He said he didn't think I'd abuse the pony when I was sober, but I'll have to own up that when a friend--when a friend invites me to have a drink, I can't say no--an' I got a darn sight o' friends in this country." The' ain't no use in draggin' this out. After that tourist had agreed to treat that pony like the saints of glory, Bill, he finally sold him to him for an even fifty dollars--an' it was me that bought the liquor for the crowd. I'm good-natured enough to suit any one reasonable, but I own up I was sore. Here I'd started out with the best intentions in the world, with my mind all made up not to be led into temptation or turned from a set purpose, an' what was the first result? I had simply given my entire stock in trade away to a worthless loafer, an' had seen him sell it for fifty dollars after he had made all manner of fun of me for offerin' one fourth of all he made over ten. Why, the pony was worth seven dollars, an' I could have sold him for that money myself if I hadn't let them laugh me into showin' of. Then to top off with, I'd blown in about a month's wages just to show the gang I was able to take a joke when it was measured out to me. I was ready right at that minute to own tip that business didn't come natural to me; but I enjoyed myself plenty enough until along toward mornin', an' then the penjalum begun to swing back. I sat over in the corner kickin' myself purty freely, when a funny, twisted little man came over an' sat across from me. He had pink-like cheeks an' shiny little eyes, an' he was middlin' well crowded with part of the wet goods I had been payin' for. "It was one o' the smoothest business deals I ever saw put through--on a small scale," sez he. "Oh, hang business," sez I. "Well, it's a hangin' matter often enough," sez he. "Do you know the reason why the' 's so much devilment in this world?" "It's 'cause the' 's so many people here," sez I; "that's easy enough." "It's 'cause the preachers ain't got the nerve to explain what the commandments mean," sez he. It was an awful curious little man, an' I kind o' straightened up an' give him a searchin' look: "I've met a heap like you," sez I. "Some folks think that preachers is paid to make the world better, but they ain't. They're paid so that when a feller's conscience hurts him he can just lay all the sins of the whole world on the preachers." "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.