No reply, but the man sat down again beside his priceless mule and reopened the old book he had been reading when interrupted by these visitors.
“Fifteen?”
“Twenty?” volunteered Gerald.
“Twenty-five?” asked Melvin. Then in an aside to the other boys: “I wonder if Dorothy will help pay for him!”
“Sure. This is her racket, isn’t it? It was Mrs. Calvert, or somebody, said we could be towed along shore, as if the Lily were a canal-boat. Sure! We’ll be doing her a kindness if we buy it for her and save her all the trouble of looking for one;” argued Gerald, who had but a small stock of money and wasn’t eager to spend it.
Jim cast one look of scorn upon him, then returned to his “dickering.” He had so little cash of his own that he couldn’t assume payment, but he reasoned that, after he had written an account of their predicament to Mr. Winters, the generous donor of the Lily would see that she was equipped with the necessary “power,” even if that power lay in the muscles of a gigantic mule.
“Oh! sir, please think it over. Hark, I’ll tell you the whole story, then I’m sure you’ll want to help a lady—several ladies—out of a scrape,” argued Jim, with such a persuasive manner that Melvin was astonished. This didn’t seem at all like the rather close-tongued student he had known before.
But the truth was that Jim had become infatuated with the idea of owning at least a share in Billy. He was used to mules. He had handled and lived among them during his days upon Mrs. Stott’s truck-farm. He was sure that the animal could be made useful in many ways and—in short, he wanted, he must have Billy!
In a very few moments he had told the whole tale of the house-boat and its misfortunes, laying great stress upon the “quality” of its owners, and thus shrewdly appealing to the chivalry of this southern gentleman who was playing at farming.