“How many?”
“One,” said Saint-Prosper, depositing a Mexican piece on the counter before the cubby-hole.
“We’ve taken in plenty of this kind of money to-day,” remarked the man, holding up the coin. “I reckon you come to town with old Zach?”
“Yes.” The soldier was about to turn away, when he changed his mind and observed: “You used to give legitimate drama here.”
“That was some time ago,” said the man in the box, reflectively. “The soldiers like vaudeville. Ever hear Impecunious Jordan?”
“I never did.”
“Then you’ve got a treat,” continued the vender. “He’s the best in his line. Hope you’ll enjoy it, sir,” he concluded, with the courtesy displayed toward one and all of “Old Rough and Ready’s” men that day. “It’s the best seat left in the house. You come a little late, you know.” And as the other moved away:
“How different they look before and after! They went to Mexico fresh as daisies, and come back––those that do––dead beat, done up!”
