“Then—go—home—and—repent,” says Mark. “Go!”
Jason went. You never see no such going as he done right then and there. You would have thought he was the prize runner of the county out after the championship of the world. He went so fast he got where he was going a minute before he started. That’s the way it seemed. I don’t believe anybody ever ran so fast before, and I don’t believe anybody ever will again. And he just naturally jumped up that bluff. It was the highest jump on record, about seventy or eighty feet or so. I don’t know where he stopped, but I do know he never looked back.
When he was out of sight Mark sat down to laugh, and we all laughed some, but we was so mad we couldn’t laugh very much.
“Fine way to d-d-do business,” says Mark. “Hirin’ men to come in and smash your machinery!”
“What you goin’ to do with the ten dollars?” says I.
“Come along and s-s-see,” says he.
We went into the mill and to the office. There Mark took a piece of paper and wrote a letter to Amassa P. Wiggamore and this was the letter:
Dear Sir,—Here is ten dollars a ghost took off of Jason Barnes and it belongs to you. Jason left an ax and a crow-bar that you can have if you call for them. A man that would pay ten dollars to damage another man’s mill like you did hain’t fit to eat out of the same trough with pigs. Folks say you are a business man. If this is the way you do business, decent folks would prefer burglars. You’ve been trying to gouge us out of our mill. Well, you won’t do it. Jason’s caught. He’s confessed. If you try any more of this kind of business you’ll be attended to like Jason was. If you want our mill, offer a fair price and we will sell. We hope you will buy something valuable with this ten dollars.
And he had us all sign our names to it.