Trading Jeff and His Dog

by Jim Kjelgaard

Jeff showed him The Fall of Satan. Raold Murchison examined it and turned to Jeff.

"A fair enough piece and I'll speculate. Shall we say fifty dollars?"

"Let's say seventy-five?"

"I'm taking a chance but—Will you accept my personal check?"

"Certainly."

Raold Murchison wrote a check and waved it in the air until it dried. "If you should be in Ackerton again, Mr. Tarrant, the Murchison Galleries are ever ready to be of service."

He left and Jeff leaped high to click his heels in the air. He had hoped to get fifty dollars for both tapestries. He had two hundred and a strong hint that more tapestries would be welcome. He fairly danced down to the desk.

"When is the next train for Delview?" he asked.

The clerk consulted a time table. "Five-three."

"Thanks."