“I know the roads through Newark and Elizabeth,” returned Andrew Dilks. “I think we had 73 better strike along the New Jersey Central Railroad as far as Bound Brook or Somerville, and then strike through Flemington, and across to the Delaware River, and so on into Pennsylvania.”
“That suits me,” returned Matt.
It was exactly half-past ten o’clock when they left the vicinity of the ferry in Jersey City, and moved off toward the old plank road, so called, which leads to Newark, five miles distant. Both were in excellent spirits, despite the thrilling experience through which they had passed.
“I have here a list of all the articles we have in stock,” said Andy, as he set Billy on a brisk trot. “You had better study it. The prices are also put down, and of course, we never will auction a thing off for less, unless it is unsalable otherwise and we wish to dispose of it.”
“But supposing a thing is put up and people won’t bid above a certain figure?”
“We will buy it in ourselves, or get some one to bid for us, or else refuse to take a bid under a certain sum.”
Matt took the sheet of paper, and resting on the box in the back of the wagon, began to study it carefully, and so absorbed did he become that he did not notice when Newark was reached, and was 74 only aroused when Andy drew up in front of a restaurant and asked him if he did not feel like having some dinner.
“You can just bet I do!” exclaimed Matt. “The fire and the drive have made me as hungry as a bear.”
The restaurant was not a very large place, and but few customers were present. They ordered what they wished, and it was soon brought to them.
“I didn’t want to go to one of those high-toned places where they charge big prices,” observed Andy, as he began to fall to. “We can’t afford to cut a spread until we see how our venture is going to pan out.”