He asked where I lived. I said, “Up the river a way.”
“Well, you’ve got time for a bottle of pop before you go, haven’t you?”
I started to say “No,” but looking at his big friendly smile, I smiled back and said, “I guess I have.”
Walking into a general store, the marshal went over to a large red box and pulled back the lid.
He asked what kind I wanted. I’d never had a bottle of pop in my life, and didn’t know what to say.
Seeing my hesitation, he said, “This strawberry looks pretty good.” I said that would be fine.
The cool pop felt wonderful to my hot dry throat. My dark little world had brightened up again. I had my pups, and had found a wonderful friend.
I knew that the stories I had heard about marshals weren’t true. Never again would I be scared when I saw one.
Back out on the street, I shook hands with the marshal, saying as I did, “If you’re ever up in my part of the country come over and see me.
You can find our place by asking at my grandfather’s store.” “Store?” he asked.
“Why, the only store upriver is about thirty miles from here.” “Yes,” I said, “that’s my grandpa’s place.”
He asked if I was afoot. “Yes,” I said. “You won’t make it tonight,” he said. “Will you?”
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