down in the
chair he had just vacated. Now it was he who, regardless of the cigar,
leaned forward.

"Mr. Pulcifer," he said, "an idea occurred to me while you were speaking
just now. I don't know that it will be of any--ah--value to you. But you
are quite welcome to it, really. This is the idea--"

CHAPTER XVIII

If Ras Beebe or Miss Blount or some others of the group of East
Wellmouthians who guessed Galusha Bangs to be "a little teched in the
head," had seen that gentleman walking toward home after his interview
with Mr. Pulcifer in the latter's office--if they had seen him on his
way to Gould's Bluffs that day, they would have ceased guessing and
professed certain knowledge. Galusha meandered slowly along the lane,
head bent, hands clasped behind him, stumbling over tussocks and
stepping with unexpected emphasis into ruts and holes. Sometimes his
face wore a disturbed expression, almost a frightened one; at other
times he smiled and his eyes twinkled like those of a mischievous boy.
Once he laughed aloud, and, hearing himself, looked guiltily around
to see if any one else had heard him. Then the frightened expression
returned once more. If Primmie Cash had been privileged to watch him she
might have said, as she had on a former occasion, that he looked "as if
he was havin' a good time all up one side of him and a bad one all down
t'other."

As a matter of fact, this estimate would not have been so far wrong.
Galusha was divided between pleasurable anticipation and fear. There was
adventure ahead, adventure which promised excitement, a probable benefit
to some individuals and a grievous shock to others, and surprise to all.
But for him there was involved a certain amount of risk. However, so he
decided before he reached the Phipps' gate, he had started across the
desert and it was too late to turn back. Whether he brought his caravan
over safely or the Bedouins got him was on the knees of the gods. And
the fortunes of little Galusha Bangs had been, ere this, on the knees of
many gods, hawk-headed and horned and crescent-crowned, strange gods in
strange places. It was quite useless to worry now, he decided, and
he would calmly wait and see. At the best, the outcome would be good,
delightful. At the worst, except for him--well, except for him it could
not be much worse than it now was. For him, of course--he must not think
about that.

He endeavored to assume an air of light-hearted, care-free innocence
and