“Fire company’s got some,” says I. “New hook-and-ladder was bought this spring.” Catty thought it over awhile. “Don’t b’lieve we could borrow them,” says he. “Them fire companies is p’tic’lar about lendin’ things. Still, if we can’t git ’em anywheres else, we’ll try.”
When I got to know him better I saw that he was perfectly serious about it, too. If he knew there was a thing he wanted, he figured there must be some way to get it. He told me once that a fellow could get anything if he just sat down and thought long enough. “I’ll bet,” says he, “that you could get anything just by asking for it, if you could think of exactly the right way to ask.”
Maybe that was so. I wish I could believe it and learn how to do it. There’s a heap of things that I want bad and haven’t any chance ever to get unless I do get ’em by asking right.
“Who are the painters here?” says he. “Sands Jones is one and Darkie Patt is the other. Patt’s a darky,” says I, “and they don’t even speak. Mad at each other. Always was and always will be, I guess.”
As we were going along we met Banty Gage and Skoodles Gordon. Skoodles hollered to me to come on, that they were going up to the dam fishing. He said there was a hole washed out behind the spiles where a fellow could catch rookies as fast as he dropped in his line.
“How about it?” says I to Catty, and he looked like he was pretty interested.
“Wait a minute,” I yelled to Banty, “till I see if Catty wants to come.”
“Needn’t wait on our account,” says Banty. “If he comes I can’t. Ma says so, and I don’t want to, neither. I hain’t goin’ to have folks say I’m always runnin’ around with tramps and sich.”
Catty didn’t say a word, but there was a line all the way around his mouth that was white as white, and he looked kind of stiff like he was frozen.
“Me, too,” says Skoodles. “Come on, Wee—wee. You hain’t goin’ to give us the go-by for no tramp, be you?”