The Agent stayed. The magnetic current of expectancy passed, none could say how, through the assembled people. No one departed after this, and the mere loitering of spectators turned to waiting. Particularly expectant was the Virginian, and this he betrayed by mechanically droning in his strongest accent a little song that bore no reference to the present occasion:-- “Of all my fatheh’s familee I love myself the baist, And if Gawd will just look afteh me The devil may take the raist.” The sun grew lower. The world outside was still full of light, but dimness had begun its subtle pervasion of the store. Horacles thanked the Indians and every one for their generous patronage on this his opening day, and intimated that it was time to close. Scipio rushed up and whispered to him:-- “My goodness, Horacles! You ain’t going to send your friends home like that?” Horacles was taken aback. “Why,” he stammered, “what’s wrong?” “Where’s your vanishing handkerchief, Horacles? Get it out and entertain ’em some. Show you’re grateful. Where’s that trick dollar? Get ’em quick.--I tell you,” he declaimed aloud to the Indians, “he big medicine-man. Make come. Make go. You no see. Nobody see. Make jack-rabbit in hat--” “I couldn’t to-night,” simpered Horacles. “Needs preparation, you know.” And he winked at Scipio. Scipio struggled upon the counter, and stood up above their heads to finish his speech. “No jack-rabbit this time,” he said. “Ah, nah!” laughed the Indians. “No catch um.” “Yes, catch um any time. Catch anything. Make anything. Make all this store”--Scipio moved his arms about--“that’s how make heap cheap. See that!” He stopped dramatically, and clasped his hands together. Horacles tossed a handkerchief in the air, caught it, shut his hand upon it with a kneading motion, and opened the hand empty. “His fingers swallow it, all same mouth!” shouted Scipio. “He big medicine-man. You see. Now other hand spit out.” But Horacles varied the trick. Success and the staring crowd elated him; he was going to do his best. He opened both hands empty, felt about him in the air, clutched space suddenly, and drew two silver dollars from it. Then he threw them back into space, again felt about for them in the air, made a dive at High Bear’s eggs, and brought handkerchief and dollars out of them. “Ho!” went High Bear, catching his breath. He backed away from the reach of Horacles. He peered down into the crock among his eggs. Horacles whispered to Scipio:-- “Keep talking till I’m ready.”