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Show 23 To give himself time to think, Karl pretended he was too winded to answer right away. All he had was the four pennies in his pocket, and he'd need that to pay the toll for himself and Jame. But if he didn't promise the boys something, they might stop helping him, and he could never manage to pull Jame up the incline all by himself. "A couple of pennies," he answered, relieved when the boys kept pushing, but irritated because they wouldn't stop giggling. Karl felt rotten enough about being fired; he didn't need the extra irritant of the boys' giggles. When they reached the toll booth, the oldest boy held out his hand, but Karl stalled him, saying, "Wait a minute. Just stand right there. I'll be back." The toll taker wouldn't look up from the newspaper he was reading until Karl finally said, "Hey, mister, I got trouble. My pal's been hurt, and I have to take him home over the bridge, but I only have four cents." "That's all you need, sonny," the man said. "Two cents for you and two cents for your pal." "I know, but, see...I had to get some colored kids to help me bring him up from the mill, and I promised I'd pay them, too." "That's your hard luck, sonny." The toll man peered around the edge of his newspaper at the cart; Karl had leaned it against the bridge railing. "Is that your pal? Jame Culley?" "Yep, it's Jame all right," Karl said as the toll man began to laugh. "The great Jame Culley gettin* drug home in a wheel barrer," |
