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Page 37
"'I conquered 'em, spectacularly,' goes on King Shane, 'and then I
went at 'em with economical politics, law, sleight-of-hand, and a kind
of New England ethics and parsimony. Every Sunday, or as near as I
can guess at it, I preach to 'em in the council-house (I'm the
council) on the law of supply and demand. I praise supply and knock
demand. I use the same text every time. You wouldn't think, W. D.,'
says Shane, 'that I had poetry in me, would you?'
"'Well,' says I, 'I wouldn't know whether to call it poetry or not.'
"'Tennyson,' says Shane, 'furnishes the poetic gospel I preach. I
always considered him the boss poet. Here's the way the text goes:
"For, not to admire, if a man could learn it, were more
Than to walk all day like a Sultan of old in a garden of spice."
"'You see, I teach 'em to cut out demand--that supply is the main
thing. I teach 'em not to desire anything beyond their simplest
needs. A little mutton, a little cocoa, and a little fruit brought up
from the coast--that's all they want to make 'cm happy. I've got 'em
well trained. They make their own clothes and hats out of a vegetable
fibre and straw, and they're a contented lot. It's a great thing,'
winds up Shane, 'to have made a people happy by the incultivation of
such simple institutions.'
"Well, the next day, with the King's permission, I has the McClintock
open up a couple of sacks of my goods in the little plaza of the
village. The Indians swarmed around by the hundred and looked the
bargain-counter over. I shook red blankets at 'em, flashed finger-
rings and ear-bobs, tried pearl necklaces and sidecombs on the women,
and a line of red hosiery on the men. 'Twas no use. They looked on
like hungry graven images, but I never made a sale. I asked
McClintock what was the trouble. Mac yawned three or four times,
rolled a cigarette, made one or two confidential side remarks to a
mule, and then condescended to inform me that the people had no money.
"Just then up strolls King Patrick, big and red 'and royal as usual,
with the gold chain over his chest and his cigar in front of him.
"'How's business, W. D.?' he asks.
"'Fine,' says I. 'It's a bargain-day rush. I've got one more line of
goods to offer before I shut up shop. I'll try 'em with safety-
razors. I've' got two gross that I bought at 'a fire sale.'
"Shane laughs till some kind of mameluke or private secretary he
carries with him has to hold him up.
"'0 my sainted Aunt Jerusha!' says he, 'ain't you one of the Babes in
the Goods, W. D.? Don't you know that no Indians ever shave? They
pull out their whiskers instead.'
"'Well,' says I, 'that's just what these razors would do for 'em--they
wouldn't have any kick coming if they used 'em once.'
"Shane went away, and I could hear him laughing a block, if there had
been any block.
"'Tell 'em,' says I to McClintock, 'it ain't money I want--tell 'em
I'll take gold-dust. Tell 'em I'll allow 'em sixteen dollars an ounce
for it in trade. That's what I'm out for--the dust.'
"Mac interprets, and you'd have thought a squadron of cops had charged
the crowd to disperse it. Every uncle's nephew and aunt's niece of
'em faded away inside of two minutes.
"At the royal palace that night me and the King talked it over.
"'They've got the dust hid out somewhere,' says I, 'or they wouldn't
have been so sensitive about it.'
"'They haven't,' says Shane. 'What's this gag you've got about gold?
You been reading Edward Allen Poe? They ain't got any gold.'
"'They put it in quills,' says I, 'and then they empty it in jars, and
then into sacks of twenty-five pounds each. I got it straight.'
"'W. D.,' says Shane, laughing and chewing his cigar, 'I don't often
see a white man, and I feel like putting you on. I don't think you'll
get away from here alive, anyhow, so I'm going to tell you. Come over
here.'
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