Trade

         James came across a small, rocky brook and stopped to refill his canteens. As he stood up, casually screwing the top on his 2 liter bottle he heard a rock shifting behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see an older man emerge from the bushes, his tattered jacket adorned with branches, feathers, tufts of moss and smeared thoroughly with dirt and mud.

         The old man smiled, exposing his yellowed, broken teeth, “Whatcha doin’, boy?”

         “Getting some water, old man,” James narrowed his eyes as he noticed the empty sheath of a hunting knife at the man’s waist, “why don’t you put the knife away, I’m just passing through.”

         “The knife makes sure I don’t get ripped off in our trade- you do want to trade, don’t you?”

         “I may. What have you got?”

         “I have food,” the man smiled, “and furs to keep you warm- winter’s a’comin’.”

         James thought for a moment, “What furs?” He’d been having a difficult time hunting and he knew he would need some extra layers in the winter.

         “I have deer and raccoon.”

         “How about a .22 revolver?”

         The old man looked at James skeptically- and with good reason, “let me see it.”

         “Let me see the furs.”

         They each watched the other carefully was their packs were opened and the agreed items were withdrawn.
         After a moment of inspection the old man looked up, “how do I know it works?”

         James opened his hand and the old man returned the gun. Reaching into his pocket James slid a few rounds into the cylinder and fired into a tree. “That’s how.”

         The old man’s eyes lit up and he motioned to give the revolver back. James emptied the cylinder and complied, “deal?”

         “Oh, yes!” The old man ran off into the brush.