“I presume that you have learned a lot of Scripture in the Sunday-school?”
“Well, I reckon I have learned to kote a little, maybe.”
“Here’s a five-cent piece, Boaz. I want to hear you quote a verse or two of the Scriptures. If you can do it, I am going to give you the five-cent piece, and when you reach the town you may buy with it whatever you may wish. Now let’s have the verse.”
The boy looked at the coveted coin in the hand of the man. He had never been in possession of so large a piece of money before. His heart thumped heavily as he shut one eye and sighted with the other one through the ears of the gray mare at a rock in the road just in front, in a feeble attempt to steady his nerves.
“Well, I’ll try a verse. ‘He—he—he throwed him over the wall—the Lord throwed a man over the wall, an’ he throwed ’im over again—then he throwed ’m over the wall seventy times seven; then the dogs cum an’ licked all his sores—an’—an’—an’ there remained of the fragments thereof—twelve basketful.’”
Paul Waffington fell over on the moss-covered log and held his sides.
“You’re a fine one, Boaz, you’re a fine one. Success will come to you in time, my boy. Just keep it up. Here, take the money and buy candy or whatever you like when you reach the town.”
“I got to hit the road now. Killed too much time, I guess; an’ then I may have to fight them Tolsons down the gorge about another hour ’fore I git to go on. Started to Mountain City to git fall turnip seed and have this plow-pint sharpened.” He drew up his reins, took from his pocket three ripe apples, selected the finest one and began munching it.
“Why don’t you eat the smallest one first and save the best until the last, Boaz?” inquired Waffington.
“No, sir. You’re wrong there,” said the boy. “Eat the best first an’ you’ll be eatin’ the best all the time. Git up, Moll! Git up!” and away he went, disappearing through the trees.