"O-o-o-oh!" It would be hard to say which one of Dick & Co. started that murmur of intense admiration.
"Now, if you can take your eyes off that canoe long enough," proposed Driggs, after all hands, the builder included, had feasted their eyes for a few minutes upon the canoe, "come into the office and we'll attend to a little business."
Not quite comprehending, the high school boys followed Driggs, who seated himself at his desk, picking up a sheet of paper.
"Prescott, I take it you're the business manager of this crowd," the boat builder went on. "Now, look over these figures with me, and see if everything is straight. Here are the different loads of bark you've brought in. I figure them up at $122.60. See if you make it the same?"
"Of course I do," nodded Dick, not even looking at the figures.
"Careless of you, not to watch another man's figuring," remarked Hiram Driggs. "Now, then, the bark you've brought in comes to just what I've stated. Against that is a charge for the team and wagon, eight days at four dollars a day—-thirty-two dollars. Twenty dollars for fixing your canoe. Total charges, fifty-two dollars. Balance due you for bark, seventy dollars and sixty cents. That's straight, isn't it?"
"I—-I don't understand," faltered Dick Prescott.
"Then see if this will help you to understand," proposed Driggs, drawing a roll of bills from his pocket and laying down the money. Here you are, seventy dollars and sixty cents."
"But we didn't propose to sell you any bark," Dick protested. "All we expected to do was to bring you in good measure to pay you for all your kindness to us."
"Kindness to you boys?" demanded Driggs, his shrewd eyes twinkling. "I hope I may go through life being as profitably kind to others. Boys, the bark you've sold me will enable me to make up several canoes at a fine, fat profit. Take your pay for the goods you've delivered!"