By keeping a careful count they found they had accumulated forty bushels.
“This is first-class,” said Dick when they got back to the shelter of the house. “I was afraid we might have to hang around here several days before we could get busy. Now I guess we’ll be able to clean up this place in a week, including, of course, the time spent in carting the nuts to the city.”
Dick was not far out of the way in his calculation as to the time it would take them to gather the plentiful supply of nuts to be found in the grove.
“This will be our last load,” he said as they were driving back to the abandoned farm eight days later, after having delivered and sold 150 bushels of nuts in Albany for $2.10 a bushel in bulk.
“Yes; there aren’t many more left,” said Joe, regretfully, for having pocketed so far a matter of $100 as his share of the speculation, he could not help wishing such a good thing would keep up indefinitely. “What are we going to do next?” he added.
“The firm of Armstrong & Fletcher will probably dissolve, for the time being, at any rate, as I expect to sell the team and start for New York.”
“I’m sorry for that,” replied Joe, with a long face.
“I don’t know that you need be. There’s more money to be made in New York,” said Dick, encouragingly.
“But you’ve got to know how to make it,” retorted Joe, who had lived many years in the great metropolis himself and had found money-getting a serious proposition there.
“You’ve got to know how to make it anywhere, for that matter,” said Dick. “I’ve heard several people say that if you can’t make money in New York you can’t make it anywhere.”