“Is that the story that starts on a foggy night, at noon?”
“No, this one starts on a dusty day in the middle of the Atlantic.”
“Say, if you fellows want me to tell a story, say 103 so!” grumbled Shadow. “Otherwise I’m going to get down.”
“No! no! Tell your best yarn, Shadow.”
“All right, then. Once two men went into a shoe store––”
“Wow! That’s fifty years old!”
“I heard that when a child, at my grandson’s knee.”
“Tell us something about smoke, Shadow!”
“And fire. I love to hear about a fire. It’s so warm and––”
“Hi! let me get down! Do you want to burn me up?” yelled the story-teller of the school, suddenly, as, chancing to glance down, he saw that the barrels were on fire. “Let me down, I say!” And he made a leap from the barrels into the midst of the crowd.