"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
of you, and if I tell him--"
"Oh, shucks, give me the fifty!" cried the farmer, eagerly, as he
held out his hand for the money. "And don't you try any more tricks
like that ag'in!"
"We haven't any desire to," said Captain Grantly. "Now we'll see
if we can navigate."
"And I've got t' see if I kin get them pigs together," grumbled the
farmer, as he pocketed Dick's money.
"You can put in a requisition for this, I suppose," suggested the
lieutenant. "I don't know whether Uncle Sam ought to reimburse you,
or we, personally."
"Don't mention it!" exclaimed Dick. "I'm always willing to pay for
damages, though I suppose if my Uncle Ezra Larabee was here he'd
haggle with that farmer and make him throw in a pig or two for
luck."
"Who is Uncle Ezra Larabee?" asked the lieutenant, curiously.
"A relative of mine," answered Dick. "Rather 'close' as regards
money.
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