"Who slew Absolum?" the other inquired doubtfully.
Trove remembered the circumstances, but couldn't recall the name.
They sat down to rest and eat luncheon.
"You going to be a statesman?" Trove inquired.
"No; once I thought I'd try t' go t' Congress, but I guess I'd
rather go t' sea. What you goin' t' be?"
"I shall try to be an author," said Trove.
"Why, if I was you, I'd go into politics," said the other. "Ye
might be President some day, no telling. Do ye know how t' chop er
hoe er swing a scythe?"
"Yes."
"Wal, then, if ye don't ever git t' be President, ye won't have t'
starve. I saw an author one day."
"You did?"
"He was an awful-lookin' cuss," said the other, with a nod of
affirmation.
The strange boy took another bite of bread and butter.
"Wrote dime novels an' drank whisky an' wore a bearskin vest," he
added presently.
"Do you know the Declaration of Independence?"
"No."
"I do," said the strange boy, and gave it word for word.
They chatted and tried tricks and spent a happy hour there by the
roadside. It was an hour of pure democracy--neither knew even the
name of the other so far.
They got to Cleveland late in the afternoon.
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