“Liberty Bonds?” The man started and stared. “Who wants ’em?”

“Me. I do, Mister.”

“Say!” The man bent low and whispered. “You see that man selling tickets in front of the big side show, by the picture of the fat lady?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s got some. Bought them this morning, cheap. Mebbe he’ll sell them to you.”

“Thank ye, Mister.”

Snowball was away like a flash.

“Liberty Bonds?” said the ticket hawker of the black mustache. “How many?”

“I might buy one, if it’s cheap, mebbe.”

“How cheap?”

“How much you all want?”

“Forty dollars.”

Snowball shook his head, “Thirty-nine. That’s all I’m payin’ jes’ now.” His hand was in his right trousers pocket.

“Let’s see yer money.”

Snowball stepped back a discreet distance, then displayed two twenty-dollar bills.

“All right, let’s have ’em.”

“Let’s see dat Liberty Bond.”

“All right.” The man dug into his inner vest pocket, produced a flat envelope from which he extracted a square of paper.

“Here it is.”

Snowball inspected it closely. “Dat’s all right, Mister. I git a dollar back.”

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