As they hurried down the road, the boys turned over to Bi all the stray dimes, nickels and coppers from their pockets, totaling altogether two dollars and one cent.
"Enough to buy the car!" commented Specs.
"At that, we are better off than our friend, the peddler," observed Bonfire. "Something has happened to his right front wheel, and he doesn't seem to know what to do."
"And something has happened to him," S. S. remarked. "Judging from his looks, he might have been run through a wringer."
The peddler was a lean, hollow-cheeked man, whose black moustache only made his pale face the whiter. As the boys came up, he was squinting ruefully at the broken wheel; its tire and splintered spokes seemed to be almost beyond repair. But when they halted by the side of the wagon, he turned and smiled good-naturedly.
"It's busted," he said, "and the more I see of it, the more busted it looks."
The boys surveyed the wheel critically.
"I don't think you can go on with that till you've done business with a blacksmith," decided Bi.
"That's just what I think, too. It's a second-hand wagon and about a fifth-hand horse." He patted the animal's lean flank. "But I hoped they would both hold together till I was fairly started. You see, I was working in the factory over at Charles City till a cleated belt and I came together in a clinch. After the doctor was through patching me up, he said I would have to stay outdoors. So I bought this outfit and was just starting my new business when the wheel busted."
"There is a good blacksmith shop back in Harrison City," Bunny suggested. "You can prop up the wagon and carry the wheel there on horseback."