"I am a small person," proceeded the man with black whiskers, "scarcely any larger than you. I think it'll be a good fit."
"Must I lose my overcoat, too?" thought Harry, in trouble.
"You've got an overcoat of your own, sir," he said.
"You don't need mine."
"Oh, I wouldn't rob you of yours on any account. A fair exchange is no robbery. I am going to give you mine in exchange for yours."
The stranger's coat was rough and well worn, and, at its best, had been inferior to Harry's coat. Our hero felt disturbed at the prospect of losing it, for he could not tell when he could afford to get another.
"I should think you might be satisfied with the pocketbook," he said. "I hope you will leave me my coat."
"Off with the coat, youngster!" was the sole reply.
"First, get out of the buggy. We can make the exchange better outside."
As opposition would be unavailing, Harry obeyed. The robber took from him the handsome overcoat, the possession of which had afforded him so much satisfaction, and handed him his own. In great disgust and dissatisfaction our hero invested himself in it.