y things
strangely affirming his constant testimony that this unhappy world
increaseth in sin; strangest of all, his meeting with our vagrant
scalawag of Canaan. "Not a BLAMEBIT of doubt about it," declared Eskew
to the incredulous conclave. "There was that Joe, and nobody else,
stuck up in a little box outside a tent at the Fair Grounds, and
sellin' tickets to see the Spotted Wild Boy!" Yes, it was Joe Louden!
Think you, Mr. Arp could forget that face, those crooked eyebrows? Had
Eskew tested the recognition? Had he spoken with the outcast? Had he
not! Ay, but with such peculiar result that the battle of words among
the sages began with a true onset of the regulars; for, according to
Eskew's narrative, when he had delivered grimly at the boy this charge,
"I know you--YOU'RE JOE LOUDEN!" the extraordinary reply had been made
promptly and without change of countenance: "POSITIVELY NO FREE SEATS!"

On this, the house divided, one party maintaining that Joe had thus
endeavored to evade recognition, the other (to the embitterment of Mr.
Arp) that the reply was a distinct admission of identity and at the
same time a refusal to grant any favors on the score of past
acquaintanceship.

Goaded by inquiries, Mr. Arp, who had little desire to recall such
waste of silver, admitted more than he had intended: that he had
purchased a ticket and gone in to see the Spotted Wild Boy, halting in
his description of this marvel with the unsatisfactory and acrid
statement that the Wild Boy was "simply SPOTTED,"--and the stung query,
"I suppose you know what a spot IS, Squire?" When he came out of the
tent he had narrowly examined the ticket-seller,--who seemed unaware of
his scrutiny, and, when not engaged with his tickets, applied himself
to a dirty law-looking book. It was Joseph Louden, reasserted Eskew, a
little taller, a little paler, incredibly shabby and miraculously thin.
If there were any doubt left, his forehead was somewhat disfigured by
the scar of an old wound--such as might have been caused by a blunt
instrument in the nature of a poker.

"What's the matter with YOU?" Mr. Arp whirled upon Uncle Joe Davey, who
was enjoying himself by repeating at intervals the unreasonable words,
"Couldn't of be'n Joe," without any explanation. "Why couldn't it?"
shouted Eskew. "It was! Do you think my eyes are as fur gone as yours?
I saw him, I tell you! The same ornery Joe Louden, run away and
sellin' tickets for a side-show. H