"Put it back!"
Jeff pressed the jack into place. Uncertainly, still a little fearful of
such magic, Pete came near. He extended a hand and immediately withdrew
it.
"Do it ag'in!"
Jeff pressed the button and the performance was repeated. Sure now that
there was nothing to fear, Pete picked the toy up and looked at it
closely. He pushed the jack down, latched the cover, and pressed the
button. When the clown's head flew up, he tittered nervously.
"I swan!"
"For that I must have two knives."
"Got but one."
Jeff frowned. The jack-in-the-box was a cheap trinket and the knife was
worth four times as much. But Pete considered the jack a very valuable
object and Jeff hoped to do much trading around Smithville. He did not
want to be known for accepting the first thing offered and, besides,
that was bad business. It took all the sport out of trading.
"Have to have something to boot," he said firmly.
"I got this."
From his sagging pocket Pete took a length of braided horsehide. But it
had been so skillfully cured and so expertly braided that it was strong
as rope and pliable as the finest cloth. It would make a wonderful
bridle rein, but Jeff said hesitantly, "I don't know what I'd use it
for."
"Fer tyin' things."
"Well--" Jeff allowed himself to be convinced.
Pete sprung the jack again and again, fascinated by this simple thing
which smacked of magic, because never before had he seen anything like
it. Then, holding his jack-in-the-box as though it were eggshells, he
made the swift transformation from fascinated child to dangerous man.
"Stick to peddlin'," he said shortly, and took his leave.
It was at the same time a threat and a warning and Jeff knew it. For a
moment he sat still, then got up and strolled quietly to the window.
Going down the path, Pete Whitney sprung the jack and his tittering
giggle seemed again to be heard in the room.