“Have you got it here?”
“No, I’ve got it to home, along with my gold valooables. I had to pay fifty dollars for it.”
“That’s high, isn’t it?” asked Joshua, who was gathering valuable information with great rapidity.
“Yes, it is; but then, you see we have to support the gov’ment.”
Meanwhile the mendacious young bootblack was vigorously employed upon Joshua’s boots. He had a hard job. They were made of cow-hide, for Jacob Drummond was not in the habit of spending much for the outfit of his son, and they had never been well polished since they were new. At length, however, they were polished, and certainly were greatly improved by the process, though in shape they would hardly have been taken for the work of a fashionable city bootmaker.
“There,” said the young Arab, surveying his work complacently, “now they look respectable.”
“They do look better than they did,” Joshua was compelled to admit. He drew out twenty cents from his vest pocket and handed it to the boy.
“Is it far to Sam Crawford’s store?” he asked.
“About two miles,” was the answer.
“Could I find the way easy?”