"'One thing at a time. You may lodge longer than you want if you break our ordinances. Get your license. Five dollars!'
"'But I don't want a license. I want to give information—'
"'No, no! You want to get information (our clerk is just bound to have his way). 'You should have information about our new license fee. Every peddler must pay it.'
"'I'll not pay it. Five dollars is more'n I could make in a whole day, and I don't aim to be in your county that long. I'll go on.'
"'Too late. You've made one sale that we know of. Five dollars or—'
"'I can't, Mister. I can't pay that. You, just forget about it an' I'll tell you how we can divide ten dollars, easy money.'
"'Trying to bribe a county officer! That's worse and worse. Here, Mr. Sheriff, you'd better look after this man.'
"The man's name was J. Jervice and he found five dollars in his clothing before the sheriff had fully clamped his grip. He went away in great wrath, taking with him not only the objectionable license but also the valuable secret which was worth ten dollars—easy money.
"The honest merchant who has a regular route does not object to the license. The objections come from these itinerant peddlers, who claim that they are just passing through. Our county officers will insist upon payment. They do not fear to discourage their visits for these fly-by-nights are the very men who cheat our citizens, sometimes stealing under guise of a sale and sometimes stealing outright. We do not say that this peddler looked suspicious, but we observed our sheriff taking a good mental picture of him."
"Good-by, Mr. J. Jervice," exulted Glen, as he laid down the paper. "I don't care if I never meet you again."