“How you vas, poys?” gurgled Herman Duckelstein, without offering to step down from the wagon. “You can took dose thing vot I haf prought; undt I vill aroundt turn. A crate hurry I vas in.” “Huh!” exploded Sile. “Where’s that boy of yourn?” “My poy? He didn’t not came.” “Yes, I notice it. Why didn’t he come?” “Maype he vas busy py something else. Yah. Vas it disappointment dot he didt not come?” “Yes, a great disappointment,” rasped Sile. “I’m mighty sorry not to see him this morning.” “You seem to like my poy, Carl, ain’t it? You seem to enchoy his companies vhen he comes to seen you, no? Vot vas der matter py your face?” Sile ignored the question. “I kinder hope you’ll send Carl tomorrer morning, Mr. Duckelstein,” he said. “Yeou’re right abaout aour enjoyin’ his company.” “Carl toldt me dot an eel didt catch him here,” said Duckelstein, a suspicious twinkle in his eyes. “Didt you at him laugh undt good sports have vhen dot eel caught him?” “Well,” admitted Sile, grinning a little, “yeou see we couldn’t help laffin’, considerin’ the fact that it wa’n’t no eel, only an old root that got ketched on his line.” “Vas dot correction?” said Duckelstein soberly. “Maype dot poy didt not toldt me dot. Maype he toldt me dot he peen afraidt der eels vas vaiting in der voods aroundt here to chump at him undt give him a pites. Didt you nefer see anythings around here dot at you chumped undt gafe you a pite, no?” In spite of his efforts to refrain, Springer suddenly giggled outright, which caused Sile to flush painfully and frown in a forbidding way. “Yeou’ve got a purty smart boy, mister,” growled Crane. “Anyhaow, I s’pose he thinks he’s smart.” “Vale, maype,” beamed the Dutch farmer, “he iss not a fool so pig as somepody took him to be. Sometimes he peen carelessness undt forgetful. I peliefe vhen he vas here der last times a tin pail forgot him, mit a cover undt a strap to holdt on dot cover vhen dere vas in der pail somethings dot Carl didt not vant to out come. Uf you didt not objections, I vill avay took dot pail, pecause maype Carl vould like to use him again. Yah.” And now Grant laughed aloud. “There’s the pail and strap yonder on the ground, Mr. Duckelstein,” he said. “We sure don’t want any property that doesn’t belong to us.” “That’s right,” said Crane. “Take yeour dratted old pail.” “Maype you didt not a choke enchoy vhen it vas yourself on,” said Duckelstein, in a manner of mild reproof. “Dot is der vay uf some peoples. It is crate fun vhen der choke vas somepody else on, but vhen it home comes dot makes a tifference. Over think dot a little, my poy. Uf you couldt not a choke stood yourself on, don’t play him somepody else on, pecause you couldt not tell vhen dot other feller vill pack get at you a choke vot iss petter as der vun you didt up think yourself.” Silenced, Crane retreated to think it over. He was still thinking some time after Mr. Duckelstein had departed. Finally he looked up, a slow grin creeping over his face.