The High School Boys Training Hike | Page 2

sharply. "My camping wagon a
joke? Nothing of the sort. And, if it is a joke, why did you want to get
it?"
"Oh, all of our fellows can stand a joke," laughed young Prescott "So I
came over to see just what terms we could make for the use of your
wagon during the month of August."
"Well, I'll be as fair with you as I can," Mr. Titmouse replied. "From
men---grown men---I would want at least thirty dollars a month for the
wagon---probably thirty-five. Of course I know that money is not as
plentiful with boys. I'll let you have the wagon for the month of August
at the bottom price of twenty-five dollars."
Dick smilingly shook his head.
"I've named the best price I could think of taking," insisted Mr.

Titmouse. "Come into the wagon shed and have another look at it."
"Thank you, sir, but there is no use in looking at the wagon again, when
such a price as twenty-five dollars is asked for a month's hire," Dick
answered promptly.
"Come inside and look at it again, anyway," urged Mr. Titmouse.
"Thank you, sir, but I must get back to Gridley at the earliest possible
moment."
"If you didn't want to hire the wagon," asked Mr. Titmouse testily,
"what was the use of taking up my time?"
"I do want to hire it," Dick admitted, "but since hearing your price I
have realized that I don't want the wagon half as much as I did at the
outset."
It was notable about Mr. Titmouse that he would gladly talk for three
hours in order to gain a dollar's advantage in any trade in which he was
interested. He was a small man, with small features and very small eyes
which, somehow, suggested gimlets. He bore about with him always an
air of injury, as though deeply sensitive over the supposed fact that the
whole world was concerned in getting the better of him.
Though Mr. Titmouse had acquired, through sharp dealing, usury and
in many other ways a considerable sum of money and property in the
course of his life, yet he was not the man to part with any of it
needlessly.
The special wagon now resting in the wagon shed at his home place in
Tottenville had been designed by him at a time when people all through
the state had been much interested in outdoor life. The Titmouse wagon
had been built as the result of much thought on the part of its designer.
It certainly was a handy kind of wagon for campers to use on the road.
Mr. Titmouse had spent four weeks of wandering life, going from point
to point and trying to talk up the merits of his wagon. He had hoped to
establish a small factory, there to build such wagons to order at high

prices.
For some reason he had met with no success in that enterprise. After his
realization of failure Newbegin Titmouse had felt that he would be
content if he could sell the wagon at anything like a good price. Failing
to sell it, he hoped to be able to get his money back through renting the
wagon.
Now he stood watching this high school boy from Gridley, wondering
just how much rental he could extort from this wiry, athletic-looking
football player.
"There will be a car along in about five minutes," mused Dick aloud. "I
must try to take that car. Thank you very much for your kindness, Mr.
Titmouse."
"But we haven't come to any understanding yet," cried the wagon's
owner as Dick turned and walked away.
"Why, yes, we have, sir," Prescott answered pleasantly over his
shoulder. "We have come to the understanding that you can't afford to
come down to our price, and that we can't go up to yours. So I'm going
back to make some other arrangements for a wagon."
"Wait a minute!" interjected Newbegin Titmouse, stepping after the
boy from Gridley. "Maybe I can drop off a dollar or so on the price."
"Much obliged, sir; but it wouldn't help us any, and it's almost time for
the car," was Prescott's answer.
"What's your best offer? Make it!" urged Mr. Titmouse restlessly.
"Seven dollars for the wagon for the month of August," Prescott
replied.
"Seven? Why, only a minute or two ago you offered me ten dollars!"
"I know it, sir," said Dick coolly. "You will recall that you declined that
offer, so I am at liberty to make a new offer."

"You'll have to make a better-----"
"If you decline seven dollars," Dick smiled pleasantly, "my next offer,
if I make one, will not go above six."
Mr. Titmouse felt, of a sudden, very certain that the high school boy
would stand by that threat.
"Seven dollars doesn't