“We can try,” says I.
“Then,” says he, “Tallow’ll take the right side of Main Street, Binney, you take the left side, and don’t miss anybody, clerks and all. I’ll kind of s-s-skirmish around.”
I went along and talked to four people, and every one of them said they didn’t want anything to do with it, just like I told Mark, so I went back to the corner pretty disgusted with the idea. I met Plunk there, and he was disgusted, too.
“Knew it wouldn’t work,” says he.
“Where’s Mark?” says I.
“He went that way,” says he, pointing.
“Let’s find him,” says I; so off we went.
Pretty soon we saw him come around the corner and go into the milkman’s yard.
“What’s he goin’ in there for?” Tallow says. “Can’t be figgerin’ on gettin’ anythin’ out of Ol’ Hans Richter.”
“Let’s find out,” says I, and we went along and followed Mark right back into Richter’s barn. Richter was standing in the barn door with a milk-pail over each arm, and Mark was talking to him. Just as we got there Old Hans says: