Farindale did as he was directed. He found, however, a foot of black muck; but, after "slumping" a while, he managed to plant his spread legs out like a pair of extended compasses, and slide the bag over the log. Here he stood, half bent together, grasping the bag, and waiting for snipe.
There was a beating of the bushes around him; then all was still; then another beating, and another, and then a longer silence. Farindale was sinking deeper and deeper in the mud, and the water was nearly to the top of his boots. By and by, the noises ceased—no foot-step could be heard, and the stranger was alone with the bag and the log, and half up to his middle—waiting for snipe.
What ever became of the Puddlefordians is more than I can say. Farindale returned to the Eagle alone. Early the next morning he might have been found in anxious consultation with Whistle & Sharp concerning a claim there of a hundred and twelve dollars, and interest after six months, which he was very desirous to secure or settle. Mr. Whistle, the senior member of the firm of Whistle & Sharp, was a very thin-faced man, with sandy hair that had seldom been combed, and he wore a faded blue coat with metal buttons, the two behind having been placed just under his armpits, which made him look as though some invisible power was all the while lifting him up from the ground. His woollen pantaloons had passed so many times through the wash-tub, that he was obliged to strain out the wrinkles when he put them on, and they clung as tight to his legs as his skin. Sharp was a little man, had a long face, and his mouth seemed to have been bored—for it was round—about midway between his chin and his forehead; and he was always wasping around, giving consequential orders about nothing, and very often spoke of the firm of Whistle & Sharp, and what Whistle & Sharp had done, and what Whistle & Sharp could do, and would do.
Mr. Whistle informed Mr. Farindale that "the debt could not be paid at present, although," he added, "that the firm of Whistle & Sharp were good for ten times that amount."
"And another ten top of that," added Sharp, from the other end of the store, where he was tumbling down and putting up goods by way of exercise.
"Can you secure them?" inquired Farindale.
"Well, now, you have said it!" exclaimed Whistle, with apparent astonishment. "What can be safer than the firm of Whistle & Sharp?—secure!—never had such a thing hinted before during the ten years of our business."
"A mortgage," insinuated Farindale.
"Can't do that,—not no how; my old grandfather was swept out clean with a mortgage once; took all he had, and he was compelled to emigrate; died of broken heart at last."
"Then," said Farindale, "I must sue."