No, the plans we carried out were other plans altogether, and they were made in a lot less than two hours. I should say they were.
We got off the train and went up to the court-house. At the door stood a lot of men smoking and loafing and talking, and we walked up to them and wanted to know where we’d find the man that gave out the county printing to the newspapers.
A couple of them winked at each other and said we’d better see the judge of probate, who took care of orphans and lunatics and such, and I expected to hear Mark come right back at him with something hot. But he didn’t. Afterward he said to me:
“Binney, when you’re on b-business don’t let anythin’ mix up with it. If you git grudges ag’in’ folks s-s-save ’em up for some other day. Some feller may say somethin’ smart to you and git a l-lot of fun out of it. If you take him d-down off ’n his high horse it’ll sour him quick—and that very man may be the f-feller whose scalp you’re after.”
“Shucks!” says I.
“It’s easier to git what you want out of a man that’s f-f-feelin’ good,” says he, “and there hain’t no way to make a man feel g-good that beats lettin’ him think he’s awful smart. If you let him make a j-joke on you, why, he sort of feels friendly ’cause you’ve helped him show his friends what a w-w-whale of a feller he is. And then you git easier s-sailin’.”
“Maybe so,” says I; “that’s figgerin’ too far ahead for me. If somebody says somethin’ fresh to me and I kin think of somethin’ to say back, why, you can bet your hat I’m goin’ to pop it right at him.”
“And l-lose money by it,” says he.
“Money hain’t the whole thing,” says I.
“It is,” says he, “when it’s money you’re after. When you start out f-for a thing you want to git it, don’t you, whether it’s m-money or apples or f-freckles on your nose? It hain’t the money that’s important; it’s gittin’ it.”