“Hamilcar,” says he, “you are one goot friend to me. How I haff longed for to ride by the woods! Ach, but it wass impossible. Always must I sit in mein store and hope somebody comes to buy.... But you steal me, Hamilcar, und it iss that I cannot help myself, so I am glad. We will drive, Hamilcar, und for the day I will be happy.”
Hamilcar didn’t lose a minute. He started us up the street at a gallop. We went around the next corner on three wheels—just as Skip and his horse slackened up at the store. Then for a couple of minutes I saw some driving. Whee! but that was a team, and Mr. Janes was a driver! We went, and the cool air slashed past our cheeks and made water come into our eyes. I looked back at Mr. Hoffer—and choked again. He was so happy about it all that—well, that a fellow couldn’t look at him without wanting to sort of pat him on the back and tell him it was all right and that kind of thing.
Pretty soon Hamilcar slowed down.
“I calc’late we’ve give him the slip,” says he. “Now, Mark Tidd, you can git to business. Hoffer, this here is Mark Tidd, and this other kid is Plunk Smalley. You kin depend on ’em. I know ’em. What they say you kin put your faith in.”
Now that was a pretty fine thing for him to say, and it made me feel considerable proud. It made Mark feel so, too. You could see him sort of stiffen up and his eyes gleam.
“Mr. Hoffer,” says Mark, “we want to buy your stock.”
“Veil, she iss for sale. Cheap, also. It is that I must go away for mein health.”
“We have got to hurry. There isn’t t-time to take an inventory, but we have an idea what you have on hand. A friend looked into it for us.” He reached into his pocket. “Here’s twenty-five dollars, Mr. Hoffer, to p-pay for an option on your stock till Thursday. We’ll offer you eight hundred dollars.”
“Option, eh? Ja, I understand option. Till Thursday. Twenty-fife dollar. Ja. But eight hundred dollar! Nein. It iss too little.”
“How much d-do you ask?”