The peddler nodded. "That's all right up to the point where I have to pay for fixing the wheel, and then—" He stopped with a little laugh. "Flat busted," he confessed. "Why, if I didn't figure that my luck was going to change, I should go right up and knock on the front door of the poorhouse. The wheel's busted; I'm busted. What's more, the stuff I have on the wagon won't sell until I get past Harrison City, because they tell me that three peddlers have been along here in the last week."
An uncomfortable silence followed, which was finally broken by Bunny's saying awkwardly that it was time to move on.
"Good luck, boys, wherever you're going!" The peddler waved his hand in friendly farewell. "And if you see a stray wheel rolling down the pike, I wish you would steer it my way."
The patrol had gone less than one hundred yards when Bunny broke out with an abrupt, "Wait a minute!"
For some reason, the eight Scouts and the attached Prissler were all ready and willing to stop.
"He can't fix that wheel."
"Of course, he can't."
"He'll have to go to some blacksmith shop."
"He's not any too well, either, and chances are he has a family to support."
"Well?" said Nap. He repeated the word, "Well?"