rakes, twisted a little, but not entirely worthless. Both heaps are nearly all solid metal. There must be over a ton of iron here."
"Four tollars—I tell you vot I do: four tollars," said Moss fervently.
Frank shook his head and continued to look calculatingly at the blackened heaps.
"Five tollars," spoke Moss with sudden unction. "Mein tear younug frient—cash. Say nodings. Dere vos de monish."
But Frank looked resolutely away from the bank note tendered as a near shout rang out.
A stout, clumsy man had come lumbering around the corner at his best gait, in a frantic state of excitement.
He was in his shirt sleeves, drenched with perspiration and waving his arms wildly. Beside him ran the urchin Frank had before noticed. It was apparent that he had succeeded in satisfying his father that a sale of the fire debris was on.
"Mishter, Mishter," he called, "it is Ezekiels Isaacs. I vill puy de goods. How mooch is offered?"
"Five dollars so far," repeated Frank tranquilly.
"Six," instantly bolted out the newcomer.
"Seven!" snarled Moss.
