When he turned around, I said rapidly: "Listen, this isn't the way I
came in, but if you want to do business, it'll be the way I come out."
He thought for a second, and then he smiled craftily and said: "All
right, come on."
Well, we haggled. The gun was the big thing--he wanted five thousand
for that and he wouldn't come down. The wheelbarrow he was willing to
let go for five hundred. And the typewriter--he scowled at the
typewriter as though it were contagious.
"What you want that for?" he asked suspiciously. I shrugged.
"Well--" he scratched his head--"a thousand?"