Young Auctioneers: or, The Polishing of a Rolling Stone. Stratemeyer Edward

covered wagon on two hundred and seventy dollars, and still keep twenty dollars in cash for emergencies.”

      “I have an idea I can raise the amount.”

      “You can? Good enough!”

      “But, first, I want you to give me some of the particulars of your scheme.”

      “I’ll do that willingly. I want you to understand every detail before you invest. Then you will know just what to expect.”

      Andrew Dilks brought out a sheet of paper and a pencil and began to do some figuring.

      “We will put down our combined capital at two hundred and fifty dollars,” he said. “Now, what can we get a good horse for?”

      “Two hundred dollars!” laughed Matt.

      “You are right, but we must get one cheaper.”

      “Supposing we look around for a bargain at one hundred dollars, then?”

      “That is nearer the figure. We do not want a fancy animal nor a particularly fast one. A horse that can pull our wagon ten to twenty miles a day once or twice a week will answer.”

      “Yes; we can trade him off for something better later on.”

      “Now, I’ll put down a hundred for the horse. The wagon ought not to cost over fifty or sixty dollars.”

      “Make it seventy-five for wagon and harness,” said Matt.

      “It will foot up to two hundred with rubber blankets and extras.”

      “I suppose it will. Well, even that will leave us with fifty dollars for stock.”

      “Will that be enough?”

      “We’ll make it do. If we run out I can leave you with the turnout, and come back to New York and buy more, and have it shipped as freight to the nearest railroad station.”

      “I see. I suppose they do not do any trusting with auctioneers?”

      “Not with such traveling auctioneers as we will be. I would rather buy for cash, anyway, for you can buy much cheaper.”

      “I suppose you can. What would you take along, and where would you go?”

      “My idea for the balance of this summer would be to strike out through New York State down into Pennsylvania, and then across to New Jersey. Then we can rent a store in some small town for the winter, especially for the holidays, and start out early in the spring for the New England States.”

      This plan met with Matt’s approval, and he asked what goods Andrew Dilks thought would be the most profitable to take along.

      “I have a list here in my pocket,” returned the young man, bringing it forth. “You see, it includes fancy articles and statuary, besides cheap watches, table cutlery, spoons, imitation gold rings, such musical instruments as accordions, banjos and violins, albums, razors, whips, and a dozen others. That ought to meet the wants in almost any small town.”

      “Can you play the musical instruments?” asked Matt.

      “I can play the accordion – not very well, but enough to show the instrument off.”

      “I can play the banjo, and also the harmonica. You had better lay in a stock of mouth harmonicas.”

      “I certainly will if you can play them. They will sell readily if they are shown off. It is good you can play the banjo. We can play that and the accordion whenever we want to open up, and thus attract a crowd. Some use a bell, but music, even when it is poor, is better. Sometimes I used to sing a comic song or two for old Gulligan when we were on the road, but I didn’t much care to do it.”

      “No, I wouldn’t like that,” said Matt.

      “Gulligan sold lots of what are called ‘fake’ goods,” went on Andrew Dilks. “But my intention is to sell honest goods and sell them for just what they are. We will perhaps not make as much, but people will be better pleased, and they will not want to run us out of town if we ever go back to the same place again.”

      “I am with you there,” said Matt heartily. “I was afraid you might want to palm off a lot of trash for first-class goods and I didn’t want to be a party to any such transaction.”

      They continued to talk the subject over for fully an hour, and by that time both understood each other thoroughly, and had decided, if Matt could raise the necessary cash, to go into the scheme without delay.

      “You see, we ought to do all the traveling possible before cold weather sets in,” said Andrew Dilks. “It is in the villages where the most money is to be made, especially now, when the farmers are about done harvesting and have some ready cash.”

      “As I am out of work, I can start the moment I get the money,” said Matt. “And even if I don’t get that other money, I am willing to put in every cent of what I have now.”

      On the following morning Matt was surprised to receive another visit from Ida Bartlett, who had eaten an unusually early breakfast so that she might come over before going to work.

      “I knew you would be anxious to hear from me,” she said. “It is all right. The others are willing to let you have the money for a year at the regular bank interest, three per cent.”

      “Thank you, and I’ll try to pay it back before the year is out,” returned Matt, much relieved.

      “And you have arranged to go into the scheme? It is all satisfactory?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good! I wish you every success.”

      CHAPTER VIII.

      AN UNEXPECTED SET-BACK

      The next three days were busy ones for Matt and his newly-made partner. After they had drawn up and signed such papers as they deemed proper between themselves, they set out to look for a horse and wagon.

      Andrew Dilks had cut several advertisements of bargains from the morning papers, and these they hunted up one after another.

      The so-styled bargains proved to be more or less false. In nearly every instance they ran across some shrewd horse-dealer, who, under pretense of selling an outfit for a widow, or man who had left the city, tried to palm off on them an animal and wagon not worth taking away.

      Late in the afternoon, however, when they were almost ready to give up and go to a regular dealer, they ran across a German baker who was selling out at a private sale.

      “I vos go to Chermany next veek,” he explained to the two. “Mine old fadder vos dead, and he vos left me all his land and houses in Bremen. See, I vos shown you der letter from der lawyers vot have his vill got.”

      And he produced a large letter-head, upon which was written a dozen lines in German, which neither could read.

      “Never mind that,” said Andrew. “Show us your horse and wagon, and set a bottom cash price on them.”

      “Come dis vay.”

      The baker led the way around the corner to a boarding-stable, and brought forth a good, chunky brown-and-white horse, that did not look to be over six years old.

      “Stand around, Billy!” he cried. “Dere he vos, chentlemen, and chust so goot a horse as der vos in New York.”

      “Anything the matter with him?” asked Matt, as he began an examination of the animal.

      “Not a ding, sir. He vos sound as a tollar, and chentle as a lamb. I vos use him on der bread route for a year and more.”

      “And where is the wagon?” questioned Andrew Dilks.

      “Here vos der wagon,” said the baker, as he ran the vehicle out so that they might look it over.

      It was a four-wheeled affair, quite large and heavy. There was one seat in the center, and before and behind this were two big boxes, each with a hinged lid. In the rear was a rack for pies and cakes. There was also a box under the seat, and a money drawer which opened with a concealed push button.

      “This