Dick Prescott shook his head in order that he might avoid speaking.
"I came by train, within five miles of here, then hired a horse and rode over here," the younger Hinman went on. "So I've got to take the horse back to where I got it, and then return by train. So I'll pay a dollar and a half to the boy who will drive this rig back to Fenton."
This time there was no response to the magnificent offer.
"See here," muttered young Hinman half savagely, "it's more than the job is worth, but I'll pay two dollars to have this rig driven home. Will you take the job?"
He looked directly at Dick Prescott, who replied bluntly:
"Thank you; I won't."
"But what on earth am I going to do with the horse and wagon, then?" demanded Timothy Hinman, as though he found Prescott's refusal preposterous.
"I would suggest," offered Dick coolly, "that you drive your father's rig home yourself."
"I drive it?" gasped the son.
"Certainly."