“I’ll bet you five dollars, Sol, that this young rascal can make a horse shoe right now from a straight piece 333 of steel, and do it better too than a whole lot of journeymen blacksmiths that I know.”
“Aw, go on!” laughed Sol.
“Why, man!––that kid’s been in and around this shop for years. Everybody thinks he is crazy and calls him crazy. How could he be anything else but crazy? with such a bunch of mean thought from his fellow men to contend with? You would be crazy yourself under similar circumstances.
“Give the boy one real chance.”
“Forget it! No good!” said Sol.
Phil took out his purse and pulled out a bill.
“All right!––there’s my five dollars. Cover it,––and we’ll prove it right here.”
“I take you!” cried Sol.
“And if Smiler makes a tolerable shape at it, you’ll start him in?”
“You bet!”