en quite
a veteran at the business even forty years ago."

A bent, little old man it was who was perched upon the seat of
the red wagon. Once upon a time his hair had been tawny. Now
it was streaked liberally with gray. He was smoking a black
little wooden pipe and paying small attention to the sad-eyed,
bony horse between the shafts. There was a far-away, rather dull
look in the old peddler's eyes.

Just before he reached the boys, whom he had not seen, he took
a piece of paper from his pocket, pulled his spectacles down from
his forehead and read the paper.

"I don't understand it," muttered the peddler, aloud. "I can't
understand it. I wish I had someone to give me the right of it."

"Could we be of any service, sir?" Reade inquired.

Hearing a human voice so close at hand the peddler started for
an instant. Then he pulled in the horse.

"I dunno whether you can be of much use to me," answered the peddler
slowly. "You don't look old enough to know much about business."

"Still, I know more than anyone would think, from just looking
at me," volunteered Reade, reddening a bit as he saw the laughter
in Dick Prescott's eyes.

"Maybe you can explain this riddle," went on the peddler, extending
the sheet of white paper. "It can't do any harm to give you a
chance. You see, I had a bill of twenty dollars against Bill
Peterson. The bill had been running three years, and I couldn't
get anything out of Bill but promises without any exact dates
tied to 'em. I needed the money as bad as Bill did, so at last
I went to Lawyer Stark to see what could be done about it. Lawyer
Stark said he'd tackle the job if I'd give him half. I agreed
to that, for half a loaf is better'n nothing at all, as you may
have heard. Then weeks went by, and I heard nothing from Squire
Stark. So the other night I writ a letter, asking him how the
collection of the bill was coming on. This is the answer he sends
me."

So Tom read aloud, from the typewritten sheet, the following
remarkably brief communication:

"Dear Sir: Answering your letter of yesterday's date, I have to
advise you that I have collected my half of the Peterson bill.
Your half I regard as extremely doubtful."

This was signed with the name of Lawyer Stark.

Tom Reade glanced through the note again, then gave vent to a
shout of laughter.

"Eh?" asked the peddler looking puzzled.

"I beg your pardon, sir," replied Reade instantly. "I shouldn't
have laugh