With this uncompromising reply on his lips, the deliverer of trunks turned to one of the half dozen who were shouting: “Here!” “Here!” “I’m next!” and gave himself up to business. Wolcott, thus forced to wait his proper time, waited still longer and watched the scene.
The two assistants stumbled with a heavy trunk. The boss pushed them aside, grasped the unwieldy thing and tossed it into the wagon.
“What a hand you’d be in a baggage car, Dave!” cried Wolcott.
“I’ve done it before,” answered Laughlin. “It’s not so hard if you know the trick.—Here, you fellows, get into the wagon and push ’em up while I throw ’em in.—I’ve got a lot of things to say to you, but I can’t say ’em now. I’ll be over this evening sometime.”
It was nearly ten o’clock when Laughlin at last came slowly up the stairs and with a sigh of satisfaction stretched out on Wolcott’s sofa.
“About as hard a day’s work as I ever did,” said the truckman. “One hundred and eight trunks since six o’clock this morning! I could have done a lot more if I had had another outfit.”
“I hope you made a good pile out of it,” said Wolcott, “and that all the fellows will pony up.”
“They paid cash,” replied Laughlin, shrewdly, pulling out a fistful of halves and quarters. “If they ever have ready money, it’s when they come in the fall. One hundred and eight trunks at twenty-five cents each is twenty-seven dollars. Taking out two dollars for each of the fellows who helped me, and six dollars for the wagons, I have seventeen left. How’s that for a day’s work?”
“Great! I haven’t earned as much money in all my life. You won’t do it soon again either, unless you get paid for playing college football,” he added with a teasing smile.
“Then I never shall,” returned Laughlin, quietly. “Those fellows down at X have been after me again.”