“Nothin’.”
“Well,” said William, continuing a discussion which their inspection of the General Stores had interrupted, “I’d rather be a Pirate than a Red Indian—sailin’ the seas an’ finding hidden treasure——”
“I don’t quite see,” said Ginger with heavy sarcasm, “what’s to prevent a Red Indian finding hidden treasure if there’s any to find.”
“Well,” said William heatedly, “you show me a single tale where a Red Indian finds a hidden treasure. That’s all I ask you to do. Jus’ show me a single tale where a——”
“We’re not talkin’ about tales. There’s things that happen outside tales. I suppose everything in the world that can happen isn’t in tales. ’Sides, think of the war-whoops. A Pirate’s not got a war-whoop.”
“Well, if you think——”
They stopped to examine the contents of the next shop window. It was a second-hand shop. In the window was a medley of old iron, old books, broken photograph frames and dirty china.
“An’ there’s nothin’ there I’d wanter buy if I’d got a thousand pounds,” said William sternly. “It makes me almost glad I’ve got no money. It mus’ be mad’ning to have a lot of money an’ never see anything in a shop window you’d want to buy.”
Suddenly Ginger pointed excitedly to a small card propped up in a corner of the window, “Objects purchased for Cash.”
“William,” gasped Ginger. “The frame!”