The “stage” was a long-bodied, flat-topped, four seated vehicle, that, in that warm weather, was left open to the dust and surrounding scenery on all sides. The boys had the back seat, wide enough for three, and immediately in front of them was a pair of decently well-dressed, middle-aged men, who got in at one of the villages through which they passed.
Neither of these gentry seemed to need more than a glance at Bar and Val to fix their identity as “Academy boys,” and they talked away unreservedly.
“No,” said one, the sharper and harder-faced of the two, “I ain’t goin’ straight through. Got to stop at Ogleport and make sure of Puff Evans’s boat.”
“What do you want of a boat?” asked his companion.
“Why, you know I bought in the Peters’s place, up at the Rodney end of the lake, and I’m going to move in this week. There’s a good boat-house but no boat. Ain’t any good one around, that I know of, except Puff’s, so I laid for that.”
“I know, but then he wouldn’t sell it for any money. Made it himself, and it’s worth fifty or sixty.”
“Guess likely, but it won’t cost me that. You see, Puff goes on sprees every few months, and he’s awful kerless about his tavern bills. So I found one up in Rodney, bought it for most nothing, sued and got judgment on it, and levied on the boat.”
“What’s the judgment?”
“Costs and all, fifteen dollars. Cost me about five, and I’m willing to go five more. That’ll make the boat net me ten dollars.”
“Cheap enough. But s’pose Puff pays up?”