Part 12 (1/2)

”It don't rest with me,” says he. ”I was sent here to git the money or to put you out of business. Them's orders, and I'm a man that obeys his orders every time. You can bet on that.”

”Come b-back to the office,” says Mark.

We all went back there, and us four boys held a little meeting to see how much cash we had. Every cent we could sc.r.a.pe up in the world, and that included advertising bills that hadn't been paid, was seventy-six dollars. We'd had to spend some for supplies and such.

”Will you t-t-take fifty dollars,” says Mark, ”and wait for the rest?”

”I'll take eighty-seven dollars,” says the man.

”F-fellers,” says Mark, ”we're eleven d-dollars shy. Looks like we _got_ to pay. Tallow, you go out and collect in what's owin' us. Tell the f-f-folks why we got to have it. They'll p-pay. The rest of us'll get the eleven dollars. You, mister, sit down and wait half an hour.”

Out we went, and I says to Mark, ”How we goin' to git that eleven dollars?”

”I just got a s-scheme,” says he, ”while that man was talkin'. It's about Home-Comin' Week. We'll get out a s-special Home-Comin' Edition.

Get the idee?”

”I don't,” says I.

”Here it is,” says he. ”We'll print a p-page full of pictures of our l-leadin' citizens, with a little piece about each of 'em. The cuts of the photographs'll cost about a dollar apiece, and we'll charge 'em two dollars 'n' a h-half to have 'em put in. That l-leaves a d-dollar 'n' a half to cover the cost of paper and p-printin'. Be a nice profit in it.”

”You won't git n.o.body,” says I.

”Binney,” says he, ”you hain't got any idee how many folks wants to see their picture in the p-paper. We'll git a lot.”

”Go ahead,” says I, ”but you'll see.”

”Got the idee so's you understand it?” says he to Plunk and me.

We told him we guessed so.

”Can you t-talk it?” says he.

”We can try,” says I.

”Then,” says he, ”Tallow'll take the right side of Main Street, Binney, you take the left side, and don't miss anybody, clerks and all. I'll kind of s-s-skirmish around.”

I went along and talked to four people, and every one of them said they didn't want anything to do with it, just like I told Mark, so I went back to the corner pretty disgusted with the idea. I met Plunk there, and he was disgusted, too.

”Knew it wouldn't work,” says he.

”Where's Mark?” says I.

”He went that way,” says he, pointing.

”Let's find him,” says I; so off we went.

Pretty soon we saw him come around the corner and go into the milkman's yard.

”What's he goin' in there for?” Tallow says. ”Can't be figgerin' on gettin' anythin' out of Ol' Hans Richter.”

”Let's find out,” says I, and we went along and followed Mark right back into Richter's barn. Richter was standing in the barn door with a milk-pail over each arm, and Mark was talking to him. Just as we got there Old Hans says: