“Rotten old roof!” bellowed the farmer furiously. “I’ll show yer how rotten it was. It’ll cost yer a hundred dollars fer ther damage you’ve done.”
“Ridiculous,” said Jack, who had been looking at the damaged roof. It was old and moss-grown and had covered one of the oldest buildings on the farm.
The boards of the antiquated structure were split and paintless. Wind and weather must have had their way with it for many years. Jack pointed out these facts to the irate farmer. But he proved recalcitrant.
“I want a hundred dollars fer thet thar roof er you don’t go on,” said he.
“Rubbish. See here, we don’t want to do damage and not settle for it, but that isn’t to say that we can be bled like that. We’re not so foolish. I’ll give you twenty-five dollars for that six feet or so of roof we’ve injured.”
An obstinate look, an expression of fixed stubbornness, came over the farmer’s face.
“I got yer here an’ yer goin’ ter pay my price. Ther justice of ther peace here ain’t friendly to automobuls and sich-like, an’ I reckon ef I say so he’ll give yer all a week in jail as well as a fine. How’d you like that, hey?”
“Threats like that don’t frighten us,” said Jack stoutly, although inwardly he began to feel somewhat worried over the prospects ahead. If the farmer proved as pig-headed as seemed likely it might mean that they would have to pay his outrageous price or else be sent to prison by some cross-grained old justice of the peace.
Of course the boy felt that the farmer’s threat was more or less of a “bluff,” but still he knew from experience the prejudice that a great many people, especially in remote parts of the country, still felt against automobiles and every innovation of that type.