About a quarter of a mile farther on we met a little cross-eyed man with stubby whiskers, carrying a big stiff satchel covered with shiny black oilcloth. It did not seem very heavy. He swung it lightly back and forth as he walked. He stopped and asked if we could direct him to “Sam Peters’s place.” He explained that Peters was a relative of his and that he had come to visit him. John told him that he had passed the cross road that led to his destination, and offered to give him a ride back to it, if he would sit up on the fish-box. The traveler gratefully accepted the invitation. When we came to the corner where the cross-eyed man was to leave us, he said that he “would like to buy a couple o’ fish, an’ take ’em over to Peters fer a present.”
Evidently he desired in this way to repay John for his ride; and thirty cents dropped into the capacious maw of the greasy pouch.
The fish were wrapped up in a piece of newspaper, and the cross-eyed man cautiously opened the satchel on the ground to insert the package. To our great astonishment a large maltese cat jumped out, ran a few yards, stopped, and gazed back at us with a scared look.
The cross-eyed man was much excited, but finally succeeded in capturing the animal. He then explained that it belonged to his mother-in-law. It “yowled so much nights” that after trying various other expedients, he concluded to carry it away and give it to Peters, who had once told him that he was fond of cats. He had got off at the railroad station, about six miles away, and had walked the rest of the way.
The cat and the package were soon safely enclosed and he started off down the road.
“That cat’ll prob’ly eat them fish up on the way to Peters’ place,” said John, “but it’s my business to sell ’em an’ not to say what’s done with ’em afterwards.”
The cross-eyed man must also have had misgivings as to the security of the fish, for we saw him stop in the distance, and open the satchel, probably with a view of separating the contents while it was still possible.
“I ain’t goin’ to stop at the next place,” said John. “When I drive in thar the feller always comes out an’ jaws about half an hour, an’ then sometimes don’t buy nothin’. When I go on by, if ’e wants a fish, ’e comes out an’ yells fer me to stop. When ’e gits the fish ’is wife hollers fer ’im to hustle up an’ fetch it to the house, out o’ the sun, so I git away, an’ thar ain’t no time wasted.”
The old man’s acumen in this case resulted in the enrichment of the greasy pouch to the extent of twenty-five cents, without objectionable delay in the day’s business.
We were now getting into the sleepy village, and the houses were nearer together. We stopped at several of them before we arrived at the general store. The male population was lined up in chairs on the platform under the awning, and a curious assortment of horses and vehicles stood around in the neighborhood.