"Is that your offer, Mr. Moss?" asked Frank in a business-like tone.
"I vill gif it chust to spite oldt Isaacs, my combetitor," declared Moss.
"Well, we will go and take a look at the stuff," said Frank.
"Mein frient, dot vos useless," insisted Moss. "Time ish monish. Tree tollars!"
"No," said Frank definitely. "I always calculate to know what I'm about."
He left the wagons, and accompanied by Moss soon reached the blackened ruins of the hardware store.
Just as they arrived there, a shrewd-faced little urchin approaching them halted, and gave both a keen look.
"Hoo!" he yelled—"I must tell vader!"
Moss threw his cane after the disappearing urchin, and looked perturbed and anxious.
"Dot vos de stuff," he explained, pointing out two cindery piles back of the ruins.
"Why," said Frank, poking in and out among the debris, "there is quite a heap of it."
"Ashes, mein frient, ashes," suavely observed the junk dealer.
"Not at all," retorted Frank. "Here is a stove, all but the top. Here are a lot of hoes and
