"And we are willing to pay you anything in reason," said the
Captain. "I don't believe we killed any of your pigs, however.
But the shed was so rotten it was ready to fall down of itself,
which was a good thing for us. How much do you want?"

"Well, I want a hundred dollars--that's what I want."

"The shed, when new, wasn't worth a quarter of that."

"I don't care!" snapped the farmer. "That's my price. Some of my
pigs may be lost for all I know, and pork's goin' t' be high this
year. I want a hundred dollars, or you don't take your old shebang
offen my premises. I'll hold it till you pay me."

The army officers looked serious at this. Clearly the farmer had
a right to damages, but a hundred dollars was excessive.

"I'll give you fifty, cash," said Dick, as he pulled out a roll of
bills. "Will that satisfy you?"

The farmer's eyes gleamed at the sight of the money. And, as Dick
looked at his companions, he caught a greedy glint in the eyes of
Lieutenant Larson.

"It's wuth a hundred; smashin' my shed, an' all the trouble you've
caused me," grumbled the farmer. "But I'll take sixty."

"No you won't. You'll take fifty or you can bring a lawsuit,"
replied Dick, sharply. "I guess you know who I am. I'm Hamilton,
from the Kentfield Academy. Colonel Masterly buys some garden stuff