whispered Toby, prodding him with his elbow. Sandy scowled,
but remained silent.

"Wal," continued Scipio, "as I was sayin', He jest made one sort o'
sample man an' a snake. An'," he added, suddenly brightening under
inspiration, "He sot 'em in a garden, an' called it the Garden of
Eden."

Little Vada suddenly clapped her hands.

"Yes, an' it was all flowers an'--an' fruit," she cried ecstatically.

Jamie's eyes were dancing with delight, too, but he remained silent,
waiting for developments.

The members of the Trust looked on with the deepest interest. Each
man's face wore a half-smile--that is, all except the gambler's, who
still appeared to be absorbed in his own thought--and the bush
opposite. But the interest of these men was less in the little man's
story than in a speculation as to when he was going to break down, and
yield his tutelary attitude before a battery of infantile questions.

However, Scipio was still in a fairly strong position.

"Well," he agreed, "I do guess ther' was fruit ther', but I don't
guess it was a fruit ranch exactly. Maybe it was sort of mixed
farmin'. Howsum, that don't matter a heap. Y'see, ther' was heaps an'
heaps of animals, an' bugs, an' spiders, an' things--an' jest one
man."

"Ther' was a woman," corrected the irrepressible Sandy. "That's dead
sure. They got busy on one of the man's ribs an' made her. Ain't that
so, Toby?"

He turned to the squat figure beside him for corroboration, but Sunny
took up the matter from across the semicircle.

"You're a wise guy," he exclaimed scornfully. "Can't you kep from
buttin' in? Say, I'd hate to know sech a heap as you."

Just for an instant Wild Bill turned his sharp eyes on his companions.

"Shut up you'se all," he cried. And promptly Scipio was allowed to
continue his story.

"Now, 'bout that garden," he said thoughtfully. "Y'see, God told that
feller he wasn't to pick no fruit. Y'see, I guess it was needed fer
cannin' or preservin'. Maybe it was needed for makin' elegant candy. I
don't know rightly--"

"You're talkin' foolish," exclaimed Sandy, jumping up excitedly.
"Cannin'?" he cried scornfully. "They didn't can fruit them days."

"Maybe you're right," said Scipio apologetically.

"I know I am," snorted Sandy.

"Then shut up," cried Bill, without turning his head.

"Anyhow," went on Scipio, when all argument had ceased, "it was jest
up to that feller not to pick that fruit. An' he didn't mean to
neither, only he