"Uh..." Henry Carter was speechless. Do I really look that stupid? He took a good look at the helpful person and, seeing that the other wasn't joking, could only mumble his thanks again: "Thank you, sir... That was close, I'm not a very good swimmer..."

The helpful person left, reassured. Henry Carter wiped the sweat from his forehead and was about to continue on his way, when he was drawn to a commotion by the roadside not far ahead.

"It's them, stop them!"

"Make them give the money back!"

"Scammers! Take them to the police!"

Five middle-aged men dressed as farmers, each holding a different farm tool, surrounded a street stall, shouting loudly, their voices full of anger. Then, from the stall they had surrounded, a fat man about the same age as Henry Carter, but twice his waist size, stood up and retorted in a muffled voice:

"What are you talking about? We sell things here every Sunday, how could we be scammers!"

"Yeah, if we were scammers, why wouldn't we just run away?" Two more young men stood up, one tall and one short, echoing the fat man's words. It seemed the three of them were together, all owners of the stall.

"You say you're not scammers? Look at this shovel—I bought it from you, and after just a week, the edge is already bent! Did you make this shovel out of paper?" The leader among the farmers thrust his shovel right up to the fat man's nose and questioned him harshly.

The fat man took half a step back so he could focus his eyes on the shovel's blade. After a glance, his tone softened a bit, but he still tried to argue: "Who... who knows what you used this shovel for? Our shovels are all made from the best steel, the quality is absolutely fine..."

"What else would I use a shovel for? Of course for digging! I've used dozens of shovels in my life, and none have been as lousy as yours! You say your shovels are made from good steel—aren't there more on your stall? Let's take one and try it out!" the lead farmer said angrily.

The fat man said, "Why should you get to test our shovels from the stall? If you break it, who's responsible?"

"If your shovel breaks as soon as it's tested, and you still dare say the quality is fine!" The farmers started clamoring.

"You farmers grow vegetables—can I eat them first and pay later?" the young men retorted.

"Of course you can! If it doesn't taste good, you don't have to pay!"

"...What about the pigs you raise? Can I have them slaughtered first to check?"

"Slaughter them, then! If there's no fat, I'll give it to you for free..."

"..."

The two sides argued back and forth, and the air was thick with tension. The three young men clearly lacked confidence in their own goods and refused to let the farmers test the tools from their stall, insisting instead that the farmers had damaged the tools through improper use. As for the five farmers, having bought shoddy goods, they were already furious, and seeing the stall owners being so shameless only made them angrier.

"Everyone, calm down. What's going on here? Can I, a passerby, help judge who's right?" Henry Carter walked over with his luggage, smiling as he addressed both sides. He wasn't usually one to meddle, but seeing how tense things were, with both sides holding tools, he was afraid they'd start swinging at each other, so he hurried over to mediate.

"Who are you? Mind your own business," the fat man shot Henry Carter a sideways glance and asked unhappily. He knew there was a problem with his goods, and any bystander could tell they were in the wrong, so he didn't want anyone interfering.

"I'm just a passerby, here to help calm things down," Henry Carter said with a smile. Seeing the three young men unwilling to cooperate, he turned to the five farmers and said, "Uncles, what are you arguing about? Can you tell me?"

The farmers were all honest folk, and none of them were the type to enjoy fighting with youngsters. Arguing with the three young men wasn't really their intention. Seeing someone step in to help judge, they were quite happy. The lead farmer pointed at the shovel in his hand and said to Henry Carter:

"You be the judge. I bought this shovel from them last week. I admit, I was being cheap—their shovels were fifty cents less than those at Mr. Bolton's blacksmith shop, so I bought from them. But after less than a week, the edge is already bent. Tell me, what kind of shovel is this lousy!"

Henry Carter took the shovel from the farmer, examined the edge, tapped it with his fingernail, and listened to the sound of the metal. He said, "It actually is a good piece of steel. If I'm not mistaken, this should be No. 65 manganese steel. Normally, no one would use such good steel to make a shovel."

"Did you hear that? Did you hear that?" The three young men, hearing Henry Carter actually speak in their favor, turned from angry to delighted and chimed in repeatedly. The fat man even slapped his thick, bear-like hand on Henry Carter's shoulder and said, "Bro, you're an expert! You can even tell the steel grade."