“It’s a real camel.”
“Thanks. I’m only interested in getting goats,” said Tootles sarcastically.
Whereupon, to his amazement, his visitor immediately drew out a memorandum-book, reflected a moment, nodded, and jotted down a note. Then he said:
“Want you to ride it.”
“Oh, you do, eh?”
“And if ten dollars means anything to you, kiddo—look this over.”
Whereupon he took two five-dollar bills from a sizeable roll and flaunted them conspicuously on the table. The aspect of ready money had always a convincing effect upon Tootles. Still, the thing was too absurd. He looked at Wilder, and then went to the door and looked out suddenly, suspecting a hoax. He came back warily, forgetting his English accent, which he had laboriously imitated in admiration of a certain vaudeville hero.
“Say, what kind of a game is this?”
“Money talks, doesn’t it?”
“A camel!”