The suggestion was too daring for President Elder to pass on at once and alone. He lit a cigar, looked at his watch, examined Bud in the glare of the depot light, and then went into the station and telephoned to some one. When he came out, he motioned the boy to follow him, unhitched his horse and told Bud to jump into the buggy. Before he spoke they were on their way to the fair-grounds once more.
“What makes you think you can do this? I thought you had to be an expert?”
“Experts always have to have a first experience. There isn’t any half bites. It’s whole hog or none,” answered Bud.
“You had a half bite when you tumbled in the gravel pit,” laughed his companion.
“No, sir,” answered the boy. “That was riskier than this. I took more chances when I jumped off the hill than I’ll be takin’ here.”
“You’ll have to git your father’s consent,” suggested the president as that thought struck the cautious banker. “If we try it, we can’t afford to be sued for damages.”
“I haven’t any father.”
“Well, your guardian’s—I forgot. You’ll have to sign an agreement waiving all claims.”
“I’ll do that, and I’ll do more. This expert was to get fifty dollars a day. I’ll work for nothing.”
“Why?”