“Somewhere around there,” admitted Slavens, as if confessing some wild folly.
“Well, I said I’d give you half as much as you expected to get out of it if you pulled Jerry through, and I’m here to keep my word,” said the Governor, beginning to write.
Agnes looked at the doctor, indignant amazement in her face. Then she turned to the Governor sharply.
“I beg your pardon, Governor Boyle, but I was present when you made that promise; you said you’d pay him twice as much as he hoped to get out of the claim if he saved Jerry’s life,” said she.
Governor Boyle raised his eyes with a cold, severe look on his bearded face.
“I beg your pardon!” said he with withering rebuke, which carried with it denial and challenge of proof. That said, he bent to his writing again.
Jerry Boyle laughed.
“Oh, jar loose a little, Governor–be a sport!” he urged.
“Here is my check for ten thousand dollars, Doctor,” said the Governor, handing the slip to Slavens; “I 350 consider that pretty good pay for two weeks’ work.”
The Governor mounted his horse, and gave the driver the word to proceed slowly to the station.