THE RECORD TRADE. 101 



neighborhood, but a bargain was a bargain, and to 

 keep her husband from laughing at her, she gave the 

 young scamp the knife. 



When I first met Bill Hood he was a man of thirty- 

 five or forty, with flaming red hair worn rather long, 

 and a beard that was twisted and matted after the 

 style artists represent Jews in the comic papers. He 

 had a high, thin nose, sharp at the point and ferret-like 

 gray eyes, while the backs of his big hands were marked 

 with freckles the size of a quarter. Every time he offered 

 to shake hands with me these spots put me in mind 

 of the little sunfish which I caught on a pin hook as a 

 boy, and there was just about as much warmth to his 

 grasp. Those who knew Bill Hood well said he was 

 a good neighbor and a clever man, as the term goes 

 in this world, but I never could believe it and I won't. 

 He was always trying to get the best of the other 

 fellow and had been at it so long that I doubt if he 

 could "break even" on any question from the weather 

 up. Hood, however, had one peculiarity, and that was 

 he never would boast of sharp work or try to air his 

 cuteness. It was common report in the neighborhood 

 that he took the money and let those who paid the 

 piper do the dancing. As a rule, they had little to say. 

 You ask why? Well, what can a man say when he 

 gets the worst of a horse trade. One rainy afternoon, 

 however, over a bottle of whisky and water, Bill Hood 

 told of an exchange that should be placed on record. 

 As the story and the sequel were related for my benefit 

 I will endeavor to reproduce what was said, but it will 

 fall far short of the original. 



When Bill Hood sat down, he always tilted his 

 chair against the wall, pulled his slouch hat over his 



