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We
passed through a toll-gate, and I wondered how the keeper came to
collect uneven money. We were two men and two horses. When I came
back the day after, I found out. So many cents, read the weather-beaten
sign that swung from the gate, for team and driver, so many for
each additional beast. I had gone through as an additional beast.
A short walk from Little Washington I found work in Peftit's
brick-yard at $22 a month and board. That night, when I turned in
after a square meal, in an old wagon I had begged for a bed, I felt
like a capitalist. I took to the wagon because one look within the
barracks had shown them to be impossible. Whether it was that, or
the fact that most of the other hands were Germans, who felt in duty
bound to celebrate each victory over the French as it was reported
day by day, and so provoked me to wrath--from the first we didn't
get on. They made a point whenever they came back from their celebrations
in the village, of dragging my wagon, with me fast asleep in it,
down into the river, where by and by the tide rose and searched
me out.


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