was
young and footloose."

CHAPTER XXXII

And so Michael was ultimately sold to one Jacob Henderson for two
thousand dollars. "And I'm giving him away to you at that," said
Collins. "If you don't refuse five thousand for him before six months, I
don't know anything about the show game. He'll skin that last arithmetic
dog of yours to a finish and you won't have to show yourself and work
every minute of the turn. And if you don't insure him for fifty thousand
as soon as he's made good you'll be a fool. Why, I wouldn't ask anything
better, if I was young and footloose, than to take him out on the road
myself."

Henderson proved totally different from any master Michael had had. The
man was a neutral sort of creature. He was neither good nor evil. He
neither drank, smoked, nor swore; nor did he go to church or belong to
the Y.M.C.A. He was a vegetarian without being a bigoted one, liked
moving pictures when they were concerned with travel, and spent most of
his spare time in reading Swedenborg. He had no temper whatever. Nobody
had ever witnessed anger in him, and all said he had the patience of Job.
He was even timid of policemen, freight agents, and conductors, though he
was not afraid of them. He was not afraid of anything, any more than was
he enamoured of anything save Swedenborg. He was as colourless of
character as the neutral-coloured clothes he wore, as the
neutral-coloured hair that sprawled upon his crown, as the
neutral-coloured eyes with which he observed the world. Nor was he a
fool any more than was he a wise man or a scholar. He gave little to
life, asked little of life, and, in the show business, was a recluse in
the very heart of life.

Michael neither liked nor disliked him, but, rather, merely accepted him.
They travelled the United States over together, and they never had a
quarrel. Not once did Henderson raise his voice sharply to Michael, and
not once did Michael snarl a warning at him. They simply endured
together, existed together, because the currents of life had drifted them
together. Of course, there was no heart-bond between them. Henderson
was master. Michael was Henderson's chattel. Michael was as dead to him
as he was himself dead to all things.

Yet Jacob Henderson was fair and square, business-like and methodical.
Once each day, when not travelling on the interminable trains, he gave
Michael a thorough bath and thoroughly dried him afterward. He was neve