"Secured by what?" demanded Dale eagerly.
"I can't tell you now. I will to-night, or to-morrow morning."
"You don't mean old ball bats, or your mud scow in the creek, or that kind of trash?" inquired Dale suspiciously.
"No, sir, I mean tangible security," declared Andy.
"You don't seem to carry much of it around with you," suggested Dale bluntly, casting a sarcastic eye over Andy's well-worn clothes.
"Perhaps not," admitted Andy, coloring up. "I can give you security, though. What I want to know is this: If I can place good security in the hands of a trusty person, will you give me—say—three months to pay you off in? If I don't, the person will sell the security and pay you in full."
"Why don't you put the security in my hands?" asked the farmer shrewdly.
"Because I have done some damage up at the schoolhouse. I want to pay for that, too. You will be satisfied with the security and the person holding it, Mr. Dale. I will let you know all about it before ten o'clock to-morrow morning."
Farmer Dale surveyed Andy with a long, curious stare, whistling softly to himself. His hot temper was subdued, now that he saw a prospect of payment for the burned hay.
"You talk straight off the reel, Wildwood," he said. "I believe you're honest. Go on with your little arrangement, and let's see how it pans out. I shan't make any move until after ten o'clock to-morrow morning."