“Come dis vay.”
The baker led the way around the corner to a boarding-stable, and brought forth a good, chunky brown-and-white horse, that did not look to be over six years old.
“Stand around, Billy!” he cried. “Dere he vos, chentlemen, and chust so goot a horse as der vos in New York.”
“Anything the matter with him?” asked Matt, as he began an examination of the animal.
“Not a ding, sir. He vos sound as a tollar, and chentle as a lamb. I vos use him on der bread route for a year and more.”
“And where is the wagon?” questioned Andrew Dilks.
“Here vos der wagon,” said the baker, as he ran the vehicle out so that they might look it over.
It was a four-wheeled affair, quite large and heavy. There was one seat in the center, and before and behind this were two big boxes, each with a hinged lid. In the rear was a rack for pies and cakes. There was also a box under the seat, and a money drawer which opened with a concealed push button.
“This is just the thing for us,” whispered Andrew to Matt. “For a one-horse wagon, it could not be better arranged. The running gear seems to be in good condition, too.”