k. The
dust weighed before you, and taken at sixteen dollars the ounce--the
highest price on the Gaudymala coast.'

"Then the crowd disperses all of a sudden, and I don't know what's up.
Mac and me packs away the hand-mirrors and jewelry they had handed back
to us, and we had the mules back to the corral they had set apart for
our garage.

"While we was there we hear great noises of shouting, and down across
the plaza runs Patrick Shane, hotfoot, with his clothes ripped half off,
and scratches on his face like a cat had fought him hard for every one
of its lives.

"'They're looting the treasury, W. D.,' he sings out. 'They're going to
kill me and you, too. Unlimber a couple of mules at once. We'll have to
make a get-away in a couple of minutes.'

"'They've found out,' says I,' the truth about the law of supply and
demand.'

"'It's the women, mostly,' says the King. 'And they used to admire me
so!'

"'They hadn't seen looking-glasses then,' says I.

"'They've got knives and hatchets,' says Shane; 'hurry!'

"'Take that roan mule,' says I. 'You and your law of supply! I'll ride
the dun, for he's two knots per hour the faster. The roan has a stiff
knee, but he may make it,' says I. 'If you'd included reciprocity in
your political platform I might have given you the dun,' says I.

"Shane and McClintock and me mounted our mules and rode across the
rawhide bridge just as the Peches reached the other side and began
firing stones and long knives at us. We cut the thongs that held up
our end of the bridge and headed for the coast."

A tall, bulky policeman came into Finch's shop at that moment and leaned
an elbow on the showcase. Finch nodded at him friendly.

"I heard down at Casey's," said the cop, in rumbling, husky tones, "that
there was going to be a picnic of the Hat-Cleaners' Union over at Bergen
Beach, Sunday. Is that right?"

"Sure," said Finch. "There'll be a dandy time."

"Gimme five tickets," said the cop, throwing a five-dollar bill on the
showcase.

"Why," said Finch, "ain't you going it a little too--"

"Go to h----!" said the cop. "You got 'em to sell, ain't you? Somebody's
got to buy 'em. Wish I could go along."

I was glad to See Finch so well thought of in his neighborhood.

And then in came a wee girl of seven, with dirty face and pure blue eyes
and a smutched and insufficient dress.

"Mamma says," she recited shrilly, "that you must give me eighty cents
for the grocer and nineteen