“Now, Mr. Wallace, I have got something to say about that,” said Mr. Chisholm. “Not one cent do you give the men so long as we are in the reach of bug-juice. I want them to go home with me as straight as when they came away.”
“All right. What shall we do with this money?”
Mr. Chisholm immediately stepped forward, and under his supervision the money was equally distributed so that each had an equal weight to carry, but I noticed that Lem and Frank didn’t get any of it. They were the ones who were much too fond of “bug-juice.” They winked at me, but said nothing.
“Now, Mr. Wallace, I am done with probating wills,” said Mr. Chisholm. “You made me sign as guardeen for a boy that is as well able to take care of his money as I am, and put my name to checks for which I am not at all responsible, and I don’t like your way of doing business.”
“No, sir, not a red cent. The drought is over now----”
“This has been fearful weather, hasn’t it?” asked Mr. Wallace, anxious to get Mr. Chisholm off on his favorite topic.
“Fearful! You follow the dead cattle that we left behind while on our trip to the West Fork of Trinity, and you can go straight to my house. We left a trifle of over three million dollars on the plains, and that’s a heap of money to come out of poor men’s pockets. I wish you good-day, sir.”
We all touched our hats to Mr. Wallace and went out of his private office, and I drew a long breath of relief. There had been no shooting done, and I was glad of it. I was hurrying ahead to get to Mr. Chisholm’s side, to ask him if that order in regard to “popping him over”--that is to say, Henderson--was still in force, when I saw Frank seize Bob by the arm and pull him back. I stayed back with him, for I wanted to see how the thing was coming out. I fell in with Tom Mason right ahead of Bob and Elam, and Lem and Frank brought up the rear. This was the way in which we marched down, and Mr. Chisholm couldn’t raise any objections to it. After we had got fairly under way, I heard Frank say to Bob, in a scarcely audible whisper:
“Say, you wouldn’t mind lending Lem and me a twenty, would you?”
“I should be glad to, but the bag is sealed up,” replied Bob.
“Sh! don’t let Mr. Chisholm know it. You couldn’t get the seal off’n the bag, could you? Lem and me is mighty thirsty.”