"Well, it only goes to show," replied Bob, "that Mr. White was right. We've lots of resources we're neglecting to develop." When they reached the barnyard they put the turtles in the corn crib until morning, for they didn't have enough empty water barrels for them to swim in. They then went into the house and got rid of their muddy clothes. "Well, I'm glad I lived long enough to see the old pond drained," remarked Bob's grandmother at supper that night. "I always said it was a great nuisance, as well as a waste of good bottom land--now that there's no more logs to be sawed. But you shouldn't have done it on Sunday, Joe; you should have waited until to-morrow." V SELLING TURTLES A little after nine o'clock the following morning, John White, president of the First National Bank, and his friend, Alfred Dow, superintendent of agencies of the Farmers' Mutual Life Insurance Company, of New York City, walked up Sixth Avenue from the banker's home and turned into Philadelphia Street. They were engaged in earnest conversation and had reached the bank before they noticed a farm wagon with a boy perched on the driver's seat, standing near the curb. "Where do you want me to deliver your turtles, Mr. White?" called the boy, and the men turned to look at the speaker. "Why, hello, Bob!" exclaimed the banker. "Did you get me a turtle already?" Then turning to his friend, he remarked, "I can now give you that promised turtle dinner, Al. How many did you catch, Bob?" he asked, coming over to the wagon. "Sixty-three," replied Bob, "but I kept one for myself." "What's that you're saying?" asked the astonished banker. "Sixty-three turtles for me?" "No, only sixty-two for you, Mr. White; I kept one for myself," replied Bob smiling. "But, Bob, what would I do with sixty-two turtles? I couldn't eat that many in ten years." "Well, you didn't say you'd eat them," said Bob continuing to smile. "You only said you'd pay fifty cents each for all I could catch and bring to you." "That's right, Bob; he did say that," interrupted Mr. Dow, enjoying the situation. "I'll back you, Bob. He made a verbal contract with you for all you could catch. I heard him say so myself." "But, great guns, Al, what will I do with so many turtles?" asked the banker, looking hopelessly from one to the other. "I'll tell you what," said his friend still laughing; "our company's going to give a dinner in Pittsburgh day after tomorrow to our Western Pennsylvania agents. I've been looking for a novelty for the dinner and this will do fine. We'll go into the bank and call up the Fort Henry Hotel and talk with the manager. We'll sell him the turtles and you come down and have dinner with us and meet our men." They were gone about twenty minutes, and both were laughing when they returned. "You win, Bob," said the banker. "All right," laughed the happy boy. "Where do you want them delivered and who'll count them?"