“Sell out?” murmured Willard. “I don’t think we’d care to do that, sir.” “Sure you would――if you got enough money,” replied the other jovially. “Anybody would. Now suppose I make you an offer for your automobile and your good will, do you mind, you signing an agreement not to engage in the business again. Suppose I offer you――offer you――well, say I offer you five hundred dollars, eh? That’s worth considering, ain’t it?” Tom scowled. “We make that much in two months,” he said. “Not clear, you don’t,” was the reply. “Not after paying for gasoline and repairs and all. But supposing you do, Benton, how long is it going to keep up? When you’re paying another fellow to run your bus for you how much are you going to make? Besides, I’ve been thinking it might be a good plan to put on an automobile myself. They say they’re considerably cheaper than horses.” “I dare say there’d be room for both of us,” replied Willard smoothly. “I don’t think we care to sell out, Mr. Connors.” “Don’t, eh? That means I ain’t offered enough, I guess. Well, now, just to show that I’m no haggler, boys, I’ll double that figure. I’ll pay you an even thousand! What do you say now? I guess that’s some offer, ain’t it? All I’m getting is a second-hand automobile that didn’t cost more’n a couple of hundred, I suppose.” “We’re not selling,” responded Tom emphatically. Mr. Connors seemed surprised and pained. “Well, I’m sorry. You’ll never get as good an offer again. And if you think I’ll raise the figure you’re away off, boys. That’s my last word. A thousand or nothing. Better think it over. There’s no hurry. A week from now will do. Think it over, boys.” “We don’t need to,” responded Willard firmly. “Tom’s right. We haven’t any idea of selling out, sir.” Mr. Connors sighed and frowned. “I’m sorry for you,” he said. “I’ll tell you frankly, boys, that Bill Connors isn’t the sort to sit down and see someone take his business away from him. I’ve been easy with you so far but that ain’t saying I’m going to keep on standing around and getting kicked. No, sir! I’ll give you a week to think it over. After that――look out for squalls, boys!” “We will,” said Tom shortly. “We’ve weathered quite a few of your squalls already and I guess we can get through some more. I guess we’ll be going now.” “All right. I’m obliged to you for calling.” Mr. Connors was all affability again. “Better think that over, though. A thousand dollars, do you mind; and that’s a good deal of money for a couple of youngsters like you to make. Think it over and let me know by this day week, boys. Good day to you!” “Good morning, sir,” murmured Willard. Tom strode out silently and said nothing until they were in the car. Then, “So that was what he wanted to see us about,” he muttered. “You were right, Will.” “Do you really think he will put on an auto himself?” asked Willard uneasily. “No, I don’t. He was bluffing. If he meant to do that he wouldn’t bother with buying us out, I guess.”