BY HOMER CROY

A tall, gaunt, barefooted Missouri hill-billy stood beside his
rattly, dish-wheeled wagon waiting to see the mighty proprietor of
the saw mill who guessed only too well that the hill-billy had
something he wanted to swap for lumber.

"What can I do for you?"

The hillman shifted his weight uneasily. "I 'low I got somethun of
powerful lot of interest to yuh." Reaching over the side of the
wagon he placed his rough hand tenderly on a black lump. "I guess
yuh know what it is."

The saw mill proprietor glanced at it depreciatingly and turned
toward the mill.

"It's lead, pardner, pure lead, and I know where it come from. I
could take you right to the spot--ef I wanted to."

The mill proprietor hooked a row of fingers under the rough stone
and tried to lift it. But he could not budge it. "It does seem to
have lead in it. What was you calc'lating askin' for showin' me
where you found it?"

The farmer from the foothills cut his eyes down to crafty slits. "I
was 'lowing just tother day as how a house pattern would come in
handy. Ef you'll saw me out one I'll take you to the spot." And so
the deal was consummated, the hill-billy gleefully driving away,
joyous over having got a fine house pattern worth $40 for merely