"She told me you might not like me if you knew who I was, but I--I am so sick of that useless old feud, that I thought you might not remember it against me. Down here it seems as if you have too much else to think of to be always wanting to shoot somebody." "Right you are, my boy." Captain Shard now shook Ralph's hand cordially, though his eye held a rather sinister gleam. "What is the use of forever brooding over old scores? Come round and see me. Perhaps I can put you in the way of earning a living." The captain patted Ralph on the shoulder, started off, but called back: "If my uncle and your great uncle made fools of themselves by carving each other up, that is no reason you and I should keep up the folly. We are not in the mountains now--thank goodness!" Though much relieved at Shard's apparently amicable way of taking things, Ralph was not altogether comfortable. "It was a close pull," he thought. "Suppose he had got mad when he pumped out of me who I was? If Mr. Quigg goes on to the coast, I'll stick by him. I'm going to get away from that old feud, if I have to go to Jericho." As he arrived at this vague geographical decision, he beheld Sam approaching with a second load. While they were unloading, Mr. Quigg came up on foot. He soon paid the darky off, then took a survey of their surroundings. "This is not a bad stand for a day or two," said he to Ralph. "We'll put up the tent first; then, while I fix up things inside, you can go about and stick up some posters. I'll put a few ads. in the newspapers and, there you are--see?" Ralph did not see except dimly, yet he assented readily and began to feel quite an interest in his new occupation already. The tent was soon stretched and the large skylight adjusted. Some of the idlers who are always present at any outdoor proceedings in town, lent a hand now and then, being rewarded with a few nickels by the artist. "Now, Ralph," said Mr. Quigg, after the trunks and other movables had been taken inside, "do you know what a poster is?" Without waiting for a reply, he lifted from a chest a pile of gaily colored placards describing in florid style and with gorgeous illustrations, the unrivaled perfections of Lemuel Quigg as an artist, the cheapness of his prices, &c., &c. "What do you think of these?" asked Quigg holding up one of the largest. "Won't they take the town?" "It says you are one of the best artists in the world," said Ralph, scanning the poster gravely. "Are you?" "Why of course I am!" Here Mr. Quigg stared at Ralph a moment, then smiled and winked knowingly. "You have to say those things, or people will not think anything of you--see?" "Whether it is so or not?" "To be sure. You must blow your own horn, my boy, if you want to get on. Humbug 'em right and left, if you look to see the scads come in fast." "I wouldn't lie just to make a little money," said Ralph so earnestly that the artist broke into a laugh.