Mr. Rushmore talked some more.
“All right, sir. The machinery is b-bein’ set. We can ship a good l-lot in the next car.... Good-by.” He hung up the receiver and turned to me with a grin. “There,” says he, “we’ve sold our car-load, and we g-g-got a contract with him for all the chair stock we kin make. He’ll furnish the turnin’ knives and patterns. And he’ll t-t-take as many dowels as we kin cut.”
“Fine,” says I, “but what about old-man Fugle?”
“Got to raise money for him somehow,” says he. “F-first we got to r-r-raise that money. I wisht it was done so’s I could give some attention to Jason Barnes. I want to give him about t-two hunderd and seventy-two d-d-dollars’ worth of attention. He’s got to be showed that it hain’t a p-p-payin’ p-proposition to meddle with other folks’s business.”
“You bet,” says I. “But how you goin’ to raise the money?”
“B-borrow it, if I kin.”
“Who of?”
“The b-bank.”
“Huh!” says I.
“Other b-business men borrow money of the b-bank,” says he, “so I don’t see why I can’t do it, too.”