“And to everybody else, I guess.”

“Yes, so it appears.  But it’s a great pity that we’ve got to be burdened with the likes of him.  Our taxes are heavy enough now without having to take care of this strange pauper.  We’ve got too many on our hands already for our good.”

“But do you know anything about that queer notion of his, Pete?” Mrs. Munson asked.

“Ho, ho, I’ve heard about it, and I guess it’s true all right.  He’s in love with Break Neck Falls, and makes regular trips there every day, and sometimes at night.  Jim followed him once, and saw him standing upon that high rock right by the falls.  He kept waving his hands and shouting to the water, though Jim could not make out what he was saying.  He has some writing on a piece of paper which he keeps very close.  He has told, though, that his plan will do wonderful things for the city and the whole surrounding country.  He once said that we don’t know what a valuable thing we have right in our midst.  I guess we’ve lived here longer than he has, and should know a thing or two.  It is not necessary for a half-cracked old man to come and tell us of our possessions.  But, say, here he is now, coming along in Jim Trask’s farm waggon.”

As the team drew near, all eyes were turned in its direction, for the first glimpse of “Crazy David,” as he was generally called.  There was no difficulty about seeing him for he was sitting by Jim’s side on the rough board seat.  He looked much older and careworn than the night he had awakened from his dream, and found his wood-box, cupboard, and pocket-book empty.  He had sat huddled on the seat for most of the way up the road, but when near the store he lifted his eyes and fixed them curiously upon the people before him.  There was something pathetically appealing in the expression upon his face.  He seemed like a man trying to recall something to his mind.  He appeared strangely out of place in that rough farm waggon.  Even his almost ragged clothes could not hide the dignity of his bearing as he straightened himself up and tried to assume the appearance of a gentleman.  The people saw this effort on his part, and several wondered and spoke about it afterwards.

At first the old man did not seem to realise the purpose of the gathering.  But when he saw the auctioneer mount a box alongside of him and call for bids, the truth of the entire situation dawned upon him.  He was to be sold as a pauper to the lowest bidder, so he heard the auctioneer say.  For an instant a deep feeling of anger stirred within his bosom, and he lifted his head as if to say something.  But seeing the eyes of all fixed upon him, he desisted.

“What am I offered for the keep of this old man?” the auctioneer cried.  “The lowest bid gets him.”

“Two hundred dollars,” came from a man not far off.

“Two hundred dollars!” and the auctioneer turned fiercely upon him.  “You’re out for a bargain, Joe Tippits.  Why, he’s worth that to any man for a year’s work.  He’ll be able to do many an odd job.  Come, you can do better than that.”