The clerk started to explain, but Wunpost would not listen to him.
“You’re a bunch of crooks!” he burst out indignantly. “I only deposited that money on a bet! And here you turn loose and spend the whole roll, and start to pay me back in fives and tens.”
“No, but Mr. Calhoun,” broke in Judson Eells impatiently, “you don’t understand how banking is done.”
“Yes I do!” yelled back Wunpost, “but, by grab, I had a dream, and I dreamt that your danged bank was broke! Now gimme my money, and give it to me quick or I’ll come in there and git it myself!”
He waited, grim and watchful, and they counted out the bills while he nodded and stuffed them into his shirt. And then they brought out gold in government-stamped sacks and he dropped them between 267his feet. But the gold was not enough, and while Eells stood pale and silent the clerk dragged out the silver from the vault. Wunpost took them one by one, the great thousand dollar sacks, and added them to the pile at his feet, and still his demand was unsatisfied.
“Well, I’m sorry,” said Eells, “but that’s all we have. And I consider this very unfair.”
“Unfair!” yelled Wunpost. “W’y, you doggone thief, you’ve robbed me of two thousand dollars. But that’s all right,” he added; “it shows my dream was true. And now your tin bank is broke!”
He turned to the crowd, which looked on in stunned silence, and tucked in his money-stuffed shirt.
“So I’m a blow-hard, am I?” he inquired sarcastically, and no one said a word.