So Green sold out his business, and sold off all his possessions in Florida, determining to live elsewhere, and with his newly-acquired wealth act the rôle of gentleman.
He thought it strange, however, that he did not hear from Winkey.
Post after post, and never a single letter.
“Hope deferred maketh the heart sick,” and thoroughly alarmed at last Green hurried off to Brunswick. Never a Winkey was there, and from the information he was able to glean at the railway depôt the man must have gone on to northward; how much farther it would be difficult indeed to say.
No wonder poor Green was now heartbroken. All the gold gone—his business sold for a song, and very little indeed to live upon! It was terrible.
In his agony of mind he consulted a young lawyer.
This man, Mr. W. A. H., was smart enough. At first he would scarcely credit the story, but the testimony of the farmer and his son who had heard the gold-seeker digging, and that of the baggage-master who had checked the boxes, finally convinced him.
Green offered him twenty-five dollars for his assistance in tracing Winkey.
“If you be Green, I’m not,” said the lawyer. “Five-and-twenty dollars, indeed! How liberal you are! No, sir; I shall have one-half the gold, and nothing less, and an agreement must be made out to that effect.”
And so this was done.