The summoned dignitaries arrived, the situation was explained, and Wyatt, handing the money to the proprietor and the questionable dollar to the clerk, requested judgment.
The clerk looked at the coin, rubbed it, rang it. It gave out a dull and leaden sound.
"Bad, beyond a doubt," he said.
"Try it with your knife," said Loring confidently.
The clerk complied. By mischance he bore on too hard. The knife went through to the table.
A sound of mirth swept to them. With horror frozen on their faces, the three rascals were aware of Thompson, leaning in the doorway—unmistakably sober, given up to reprehensible levity, holding out a bright tin pail with an expectant air.
Let us give even the devil his due. For Mitchell laughed.