Just before he reached the boys, whom he had not seen, he took a piece of paper from his pocket, pulled his spectacles down from his forehead and read the paper.

“I don’t understand it,” muttered the peddler, aloud.  “I can’t understand it.  I wish I had someone to give me the right of it.”

“Could we be of any service, sir?” Reade inquired.

Hearing a human voice so close at hand the peddler started for an instant.  Then he pulled in the horse.

“I dunno whether you can be of much use to me,” answered the peddler slowly.  “You don’t look old enough to know much about business.”

“Still, I know more than anyone would think, from just looking at me,” volunteered Reade, reddening a bit as he saw the laughter in Dick Prescott’s eyes.

“Maybe you can explain this riddle,” went on the peddler, extending the sheet of white paper.  “It can’t do any harm to give you a chance.  You see, I had a bill of twenty dollars against Bill Peterson.  The bill had been running three years, and I couldn’t get anything out of Bill but promises without any exact dates tied to ’em.  I needed the money as bad as Bill did, so at last I went to Lawyer Stark to see what could be done about it.  Lawyer Stark said he’d tackle the job if I’d give him half.  I agreed to that, for half a loaf is better’n nothing at all, as you may have heard.  Then weeks went by, and I heard nothing from Squire Stark.  So the other night I writ a letter, asking him how the collection of the bill was coming on.  This is the answer he sends me.”

So Tom read aloud, from the typewritten sheet, the following remarkably brief communication: 

“Dear Sir:  Answering your letter of yesterday’s date, I have to advise you that I have collected my half of the Peterson bill.  Your half I regard as extremely doubtful.”

This was signed with the name of Lawyer Stark.

Tom Reade glanced through the note again, then gave vent to a shout of laughter.

“Eh?” asked the peddler looking puzzled.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied Reade instantly.  “I shouldn’t have laughed, but this struck me, at first, as one of the funniest letters I ever saw.  So the lawyer has collected his half of the twenty and regards the collection of your half as exceedingly doubtful!”

“Shouldn’t Lawyer Stark give me half of the ten he got from Bill Peterson?” asked the peddler anxiously.

“Undoubtedly he should,” Tom assented, “and just as undoubtedly he hasn’t any idea of doing so.”

“What do you say, young man?” inquired the peddler, turning to young Prescott.

“Why, sir, if you are asking about your legal chance of getting half of that ten dollars from the lawyer,” Dick answered, “then I’m afraid you stand a poor show.  If the lawyer won’t pay you the money, then you would have to sue him.  Even if you won the suit, the fight would cost you a good deal more than the amount you would recover.  And the lawyer might beat you, even if you sued him.”