Once, so clambering, he found himself beside a tall man, brown-eyed and brown-haired, who drove a brown horse. Pippin's eyes were brown, too, but they danced and sparkled like running water; the stranger's eyes were like a quiet pool under shady trees, yet there was light in them, too. "Goin' far?" he asked. His voice was grave, and he spoke slowly. "Four Corners was what I'd aimed at," said Pippin, "but if you ain't goin' that way--?" "Goin' right past it, on my reg'lar route! I do business there to the store. I see you carry your trade with you, same as I do!" He jerked his head backward toward a neat arrangement of drawers and tiny cupboards which half filled his roomy wagon. "Nice trade, I expect?" Pippin laughed his joyous laugh. "Real nice, only it isn't mine, not for keeps, I would say. 'Twas a--well, you might call it a legacy, and you wouldn't be far wrong. It come right to my hand when I was lookin' for a job, and I took it up then and there. Yes, sir, 'tis a good trade, and a man might do well at it, I don't doubt, but yet I don't feel it to be my own trade that I was meant for. So I go about seekin' for that one, and workin' at this one, and helpin' in the bakery--Baxter's to Kingdom; I'm boardin' there--helpin' there mornin's an' evenin's." The brown eyes studied him carefully. "About twenty-one years old, son? Twenty-two? I thought about there! Well, what have you been doin' up to now?" Pippin told him, much as he had told Jacob Bailey. The brown man listened attentively, murmuring, "Sho!" or "Ain't that a sight!" occasionally to himself. "So you see," Pippin concluded, "I want to be right down sure I've got the real thing before I settle down." "Sure!" the other assented. "That's right!" "And I keep feelin' at the back of my head that what I want is work with my hands; not this way, but farmin', or like that. The smell of the earth, and to see things growin', and--don't you know?" The stranger assented absently. "Elegant!" he said. "Farmin's elegant, when you've got the gift, but--ever thought of goin' to sea?" he asked; an eager look came into his face. Pippin shook his head. "Not any!" he said. "I see the sea once, an' honest, it give me the creeps. Cold water mumblin' over the stones, like it wanted to eat 'em; and brown--kind o' like hair it was, floatin' about; and every now and then a big wave would come _Sssss!_ up on the shore--well, honest, I run! I was a little shaver, but I've never wanted any more sea in mine!" The brown man laughed. "You'd feel different, come to get out in blue water!" he said. "Smell the salt, and get the wind in your face, and--gorry! I'm a sea-farin' man," he said simply. "I spent good part of my life at sea. I'm runnin' a candy route at present--have a pep'mint! Do! 'Twon't cost you a cent, and it's real good for the stummick--but where I belong is at sea. Well! you can't do better than farmin', surely. Would you like a temp'ry job pickin' apples? I dunno but Sam--"