Mr. Pelikan took from his inner pocket a square folded piece of crocodile leather, this was his purse, and selected a paper from the pile it contained. There was not a single bank-note, only bills, filled in and blank.
"I never carry money about me," said the horse-dealer, "only these. They can steal these if they like, the thieves would only lose by it."
"Which I will accept," said Mr. Kádár in his turn. "Mr. Pelikan's signature is as good as ready-money."
Pelikan had brought writing materials, a portable inkstand in his trouser pocket, and a quill pen in his top-boot.
"We'll soon have a writing-table, too," he remarked, "if you will kindly bring us your horse here, herdsman."
The saddle of Decsi's horse came in very handy as a table on which to fill in the bill. The herdsman watched with the greatest interest.
And not alone the herdsman, but the horses also. Those same wild colts which had been scared four times and from whose midst four of their comrades had just been lassoed, crowded round like inquisitive children, and without the slightest fear. (It is true Mr. Mihály Kádár was bribing them with Debreczin rolls.) One dapple bay actually laid its head on the dealer's shoulder and looked on in wonder. None of them had ever seen a bill filled in before.
It is probable that Sándor Decsi expressed the silent thought of each, when he inquired, "Why do you write 812 florins 18 kreuzers, sir, when the price was settled at eight hundred florins?"
"Well, herdsman, the reason is that I must pay the sum in ready-money. Worthy Mr. Kádár here will write his name on the back, and then the bill will be 'endorsed.' To-morrow morning he will take it to the Savings Bank, where they will pay out eight hundred florins, but deduct twelve florins—eighteen kreuzers—as discount, and, therefore, I don't require to pay the money for three months."
"And if you do not repay it, sir?"