Phil inserted the agreed-upon price in the contract.
"Just sign your name there, please," he said, still in that soft, persuasive voice.
The storekeeper read the brief contract through, nodded approvingly, then affixed his signature with the fountain pen that Phil had handed to him.
This done, the lad counted out forty dollars, stowed the rest away in his pockets, together with his other belongings, then extended his hand cordially to the proprietor.
"Thank you very much," murmured Phil, his face all aglow now.
"You're welcome. When do you put up your bills?"
"At once. We leave town tonight, and we have a lot of work to do first."
"Let's see; were you one of the fellows mixed up in that race this morning?"
Phil blushed.
"I am afraid I was very much mixed up in it.
Well, good afternoon."