“On the post at the corner. Leastways, it’s there mostly, when the boys don’t steal it on me.”
“All right. If you’re not there I’ll write on the slate and you’ll find the checks at the station. I’ll tell the agent to give them to you. Understand, do you?”
Mr. Duff nodded calmly. “S’pose I do,” he murmured, as he ambled back to his wagon.
Tom, who had remained to make certain that the sample-cases arrived safely, grinned as Willard joined him. “Smart, wide-awake old chap, isn’t he?” he laughed.
“He’s a wonder!” agreed Willard. “Actually, it took him ten minutes to get those two cases from the platform to his wagon, Tom! But he will have to do. I’ve arranged with him to look after all our baggage and so Connors needn’t worry us.”
“I wonder,” said Tom, as he headed The Ark toward Willard’s house, “if it would pay us to have a horse and wagon of our own?”
“I thought of that,” replied Willard. “I don’t believe it would, hardly. They say it costs about six dollars a week to feed a horse, and——”
“Six dollars a week!” exclaimed Tom. “What on? Chicken and asparagus?”
“Oats and hay. It’s a fact. Feed is awfully high. Then there’d be the price of the horse and wagon.”