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 land me clear for the season,” complained Newbegin Titmouse.  “I’ve spent nine dollars already in advertising the wagon.”

“Then, if you don’t take my seven dollars,” Prescott proposed, “you’ll be out quite a bit of money, Mr. Titmouse.  I see my car coming in the distance.  So good-----”

“I’ll take ten!” called Mr. Titmouse, as Dick once more turned away.

“Six,” smiled Dick significantly.   “But I haven’t time to stay
here and dicker, sir.   Good-----”

“Hold on!” fairly screamed Mr. Titmouse, as Dick, nodding at him, started to run to the corner.

“Then I’ll stop and talk it over with you, sir,” answered Prescott, going back.  “But I don’t say that I’ll agree to take the wagon.”

“Now, don’t you try to work the price down any lower,” exclaimed Mr. Titmouse, looking worried.

“No, sir; I won’t do that,” Dick promised.  “I won’t say, yet, that I’ll take the wagon, but I will agree that I’ll either take it at six dollars or refuse the chance altogether.  I’ve just happened to think of something that I want to make sure about”