"
"Did you sleep there?"
"Yes."
"I wouldn't."
"Why not?"
"I wouldn't sleep in a crazy man's house."
"He wouldn't hurt you."
"I don't know about that. He chases us boys often, and threatens
to kill us."
"You plague him, don't you?"
"I guess we do. We call him 'Old Crazy,' and that makes him mad.
He says Henry Clay puts us up to it--ho, ho, ho!"
"He thinks Clay is his enemy. He told me so."
"What did you say?"
"Oh, I didn't contradict him. I called him general. He treated
me tip-top. He is going to make me Minister of France, when he is
President again."
"Maybe that was the best way to get along."
"How long has he lived here? What made him crazy?"
"I don't know. Folks say he was disappointed."
"Did he ever see Jackson?"
"Yes; he fit at New Orleans under him."
"Has he lived long around here?"
"Ever since I can remember. He gets a pension, I've heard father
say. That's what keeps him."
Here the boy reached the pasture to which he was driving the cows,
and Harry, bidding him "good-by," went on his way. He felt fresh
and vigorous, and walked ten miles before he felt the need of rest.
When this distance was accomplished, he found himself in the center
of a good-sized village. He felt hungry, and the provision which he
brought from home was nearly gone. There was a grocery store close
at hand, and he went in, thinking that he would find something to
help his meal.
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