“One hundred an’ fifty dollars, jest as I told ye afore. They’re wuth two hundred ef they’re wuth a cent—an’ that’s only a dollar apiece—cheap fer buff Cochins. Ye’ll have t’ speak mighty soon, ef ye want ’em. I come down this way special t’ see ye.”
“I’ll give ye a hundred an’ forty, Eb.”
“All right, I’ll take ye!” exclaimed the miserly farmer quickly. “Cash down, mind ye.”
“Yes, I’m willin’ t’ pay cash,” agreed Mr. Stearn.
“An’ ye’ll have t’ pay suthin’ now, t’ bind the bargain,” went on Mr. Sackett eagerly. “Newt Porter an’ Si Granberry will be witnesses that ye agreed t’ take ’em.”
“All right, Eb. Here’s ten dollars. I’ll pay ye th’ rest when I come fer th’ fowls.”
Mr. Stearn was about to pass over a ten-dollar bill to Mr. Sackett when Jerry, with a nudge to his companions, stepped from behind the wagon, and confronted the miser.
“Hold on a minute, Mr. Stearn,” said the tall lad calmly. “I wouldn’t buy those chickens, if I were you.”
“Not buy those chickens? Why not?” asked the prospective purchaser. “They’re a good flock, ain’t they?”