"Well, I want a hundred dollars—that's what I want."
"The shed, when new, wasn't worth a quarter of that."
"I don't care!" snapped the farmer. "That's my price. Some of my pigs may be lost for all I know, and pork's goin' t' be high this year. I want a hundred dollars, or you don't take your old shebang offen my premises. I'll hold it till you pay me."
The army officers looked serious at this. Clearly the farmer had a right to damages, but a hundred dollars was excessive.
"I'll give you fifty, cash," said Dick, as he pulled out a roll of bills. "Will that satisfy you?"
The farmer's eyes gleamed at the sight of the money. And, as Dick looked at his companions, he caught a greedy glint in the eyes of Lieutenant Larson.
"It's wuth a hundred; smashin' my shed, an' all the trouble you've caused me," grumbled the farmer. "But I'll take sixty."
"No you won't. You'll take fifty or you can bring a lawsuit," replied Dick, sharply. "I guess you know who I am. I'm Hamilton, from the Kentfield Academy. Colonel Masterly buys some garden stuff of you, and if I tell him—"
"Oh, shucks, give me the fifty!" cried the farmer, eagerly, as he held out his hand for the money. "And don't you try any more tricks like that ag'in!"
"We haven't any desire to," said Captain Grantly. "Now we'll see if we can navigate."