"Naturally, sir," Dick went on, "before coming here to see you
I made a few inquiries in Tottenville. I discovered that in this
vicinity the wagon is something of a joke."

"What's that?" questioned the other 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.