A TRANSACTION IN NUTS.
“Gee! I never was so rich in my life!” exclaimed Joe Fletcher as he counted over the $30 he had received from Dick and contemplated the bills with a childish sort of delight.
“If Nathan Boggs had paid you what he owes you for your five months’ service on his farm, you’d have ninety dollars easy enough now,” remarked his young partner and chum, tucking away his own “boodle” in a safe place.
“Yep, I ’spect so,” grinned Joe, who was not lamenting the loss of that $60 just at present.
“Boggs ought to be prosecuted and made to shell out.”
“And the screws ought to be put to Silas Maslin, too,” said Joe. “He treated you worse, on the whole, than Boggs had the chance to do to me.”
“I don’t say he didn’t; but I’m satisfied if I never run across him again. I can make my own way in the world, and I’m going to do it.”
“I’ll bet you will. You’re smart enough, all right,” answered Joe, admiringly.
The boys had arranged with the stable keeper so they could sleep in the building in the little room in the hayloft formerly occupied by Hiram Bond.
On their return from the restaurant where they had had supper they found a man waiting to see Dick.