Watch Yourself Go By. Al. G. Field

and fields. As they neared the old Smouse place, now occupied by Mart Massie as a dairy farm, the milkman was hitching up preparatory to making his usual rounds.

      Cousin Charley, perhaps feeling it would be a good rehearsal, recounted the story he had concocted to relate to Alfred's parents. The milkman was greatly interested in the thrilling narrative and consented to store the boys in the back end of the milk wagon, delivering them when he delivered the milk to their folks. The boys thought it a very long milk route. Alfred had Cousin Charley as nearly nervous as his nature would permit by more than once threatening to get out and walk home.

      When they neared home, passing through Church Street, Alfred made a move to leave the wagon, crawling over the end gate backwards, his limbs dangling outside, his head and body hid by the closely drawn curtains. Cousin Charley, after struggling, pulled him into the wagon under cover.

      "If Ye Ain't Lyin' About This and I'm Hopin' Ye Air"

      Several women had caught sight of the limbs and the unmentionable garments. While the driver was entirely ignorant of the cause, he was forever disgraced on this part of his route. An old Scotch lady declared to several of her neighbors the "shameless hussy was bare to the kilt."

      Arriving in front of Alfred's home, Cousin Charley hustled him into the house the front way as Lin came up the path from the back part of the house in answer to the bell of the milkman, who was of the gossiping kind, and managed to give Lin the outlines of Cousin Charley's story as he drew the milk and cream from his large cans.

      Lin could scarcely wait until he poured the milk into her pitcher. Giving the milk vendor a withering look, she slammed the gate and hissed:

      "I'll bet a fippennybit that's another of Charley's durn lies."

      Hurrying into the kitchen she seized a rolling pin, her favorite weapon. Two stairs at a time she bounded, reaching the room where Cousin Charley had related about half of the harassing details of the rescue of Alfred. This was his story:

      "He had stopped to rest. Alfred got out of his sight in some way. He heard screams from the creek. He saw Alfred floating down the stream on a log which he had been paddling around in the shallow water. It was but the work of a moment to disrobe. Plunging into the raging torrent he had to swim for dear life to overtake the fast floating boy on the log. He had just managed to land him before the dam was reached. A moment later and they would both have been carried over the dam to certain destruction."

      The mother was faint with nervousness and sadly shook her head as she said:

      "That boy will be the death of me yet. His disobedience is something I cannot understand. No wonder his father is out of patience with him."

      Lin was watching Charley closely, occasionally casting side glances at Alfred. She had a gleam in her eyes that made Charley falter more than once in his narration.

      Charley was still in the details when Lin interrupted him with:

      "Durn yer pictur', ye nivir take this boy anywhar yer not back with a cock and bull story. Next ye'll be fightin' Injuns or gypsies to save Alfurd and it all amounts to Alfurd gittin' whupped an' somethin, fer ye to laff over."

      Here she brandished the rolling pin over Charley, raising herself higher as the boy shrank from her threatening motions.

      "Ef ye ain't lyin' 'bout this, an' I'm hopin' ye air, we ought to be mighty thankful to ye. But I'm boun' to hev the truth. Set down, or I'll knock ye down."

      "'Al-f-u-r-d,' I want ye to stan' up like a little man. Ye nivir tol' me a lie 'cept when ye stol' us hungry carryin' vittles to this houn'," as she pointed to the thoroughly frightened Charley, who whined:

      "That's all the thanks I git for risking my life."

      "Shet up," Lin almost yelled, "ye'll not tell one word of this to Mr. Hatfield."

      "Stan' up 'Al-f-u-r-d' an' look this helgrimite in the face an' shame the devil. Didn't he push ye in the creek?"

      "No, ma'am," falteringly. "I went in myself."

      Charley began to look triumphant.

      "Did he pull you out?"

      "No, ma'am, Morg Gaskill pulled us both out."

      Lin fairly hissed: "I knowed ye was lyin'."

      Thus encouraged, Alfred graphically related the adventures of the day, not omitting any of the details save the dangling of his limbs out of the milk wagon.

      Charley was taken aback and thereafter his credibility was destroyed in so far as the mother and Lin were concerned. He pouted and endeavored to deny portions of the younger boy's recital but was met with such positive assertions from Alfred that he retired entirely discomfited.

      Lin's only comment was: "Durn ye; I'd be afeard to put my head in a circus, much less a church." Lin looked upon one with as much reverence as the other.

      The boys missed the afternoon performance but were there early for the night show. At the opening note of the hand organ in the side-show Cousin Charley and Alfred were inside. The orator had eloquently described the curiosities pictured on the long line of banners in front of the side-show. But the most alluring object had not been mentioned, namely, a long show case filled with jewelry, symbolic numbers, bank notes of all denominations. A dice box on top of the glass-covered case was the means by which the yokels were assured they could extract the jewelry, bank notes, etc.

      The father had given Charley ample funds to cover admission fees to all shows and a liberal allowance for refreshments. Alfred was very much interested in the big snake and the lady whom the lecturer introduced as a snake charmer.

      The lecturer announced that the performance was over, but another would be given in fifteen minutes. All those wishing to remain for the next performance were privileged to do so. Those congregated around the show case whereon the dice rattled were the only ones to remain.

      Alfred heard the man behind the case saying: "Try your luck again, young man. You were within one number of the capital prize. You can't win it every time. Try again."

      Charley did try again and again. He did not win the capital prize but in lieu of $4 he had two brass rings, a pair of brass cuff buttons and a lead pencil with a sharpener on the end of it.

      The shades of night were falling. The lights in the big tent could be seen over the side wall. Hundreds of candles on a pyramid-shaped candelabra made of boards. Think of it, ye modern Ringlings, candles the only lights!

      The band playing, Alfred imagined the show going on: the horses going around. All the glories and beauties he had been anticipating for weeks would be lost to him. He implored Cousin Charley to hurry up and purchase their tickets.

      Hundreds were buying tickets. The big red wagon was open, the ticket seller handling the pasteboards with lightning-like rapidity. It was Ben Lusbie. He was the lightning ticket seller of the circus world. Such was his dexterity that Forepaugh afterwards lithographed him as an attraction.

      Alfred's urgent appeals to "hurry and get our tickets" were lost upon Cousin Charley. He was seemingly dazed. The man at the big door shouted: "Everybody hold their own ticket; all must have tickets."

      The hustle and confusion made Alfred still more impatient. He gave the older boy's arm a rough jerk as he urged him to get their tickets. Cousin Charley seemed to wake up and the awful truth was revealed—Cousin Charley had been robbed. Alfred must stand right there until he took the jewelry back to the side show and recovered his money.

      Alfred stood right there. Hundreds passed him, laughing and crowding into the big show. The longer Alfred waited the more miserable he became. Despair came over him. He waited, Cousin Charley did not come. The crowd thinned out; deeper and deeper Alfred's heart sank within him.

      Anger began to take the place of disappointment. He would beat Cousin Charley