"I dunno," said Bob, diving his hands into both his capacious pockets—each were big enough to hold a rabbit—and making a wonderful rattling.
"I reckon I've enough for to-morrow. It seems deep enough."
"Well, my friend, hand over."
"What!" cried Bob, "you want me to bail up?"
"Bail up!"
"You're a downright bushranger, Archie. However, I suppose I must obey."
Then he emptied his pockets into a pile on the table—gold, silver, copper, all in the same heap. Archie counted and made a note of all, put part away in a box, locked it, gave Bob back a few coins, mostly silver, and stowed the rest in his purse.
"Now," said Archie, "be a good old boy, Bob; and if you want any more money, just ask nicely, and perhaps you'll have it."
There was a rattling thunder-storm that night, which died away at last far beyond the hills, and next morning broke bright, and cool, and clear.
A more lovely marriage morning surely never yet was seen.