"You—remember what you said last July?"
"About—"
"About making restitution."
"Yes."
"Well, I can do it now."
"I am glad."
"I've brought you the papers. That's why—I—had to come. Will you—take them—out of my—"
The priest unbuckled a travel-stained buckskin miner's belt and laid it on the floor. All the many pockets were empty save the long one in the middle. He unbuttoned the flap and took out some soiled, worn-looking papers. "Are zese in proper form?" he asked, but the man seemed to have dropped into unconsciousness. Hurriedly the priest added: "Zere is no time to read zem. Ah! Mr.—will you come and witness zis last will and testament?"
The Boy got up and stood near. The man from Minóok opened his eyes.
"Here!" The priest had got writing materials, and put a pen into the slack hand, with a block of letter-paper under it.