"Sure."
"On one of those four corners," Tom continued, "you'll find the
Dugout City Bank."
"I've seen the place," nodded Ferrers, "but I never had any money in it."
"You will have, one of these days," smiled Tom, taking out a fountain pen and shaking it. Next he drew a small, oblong book from an inside pocket, and commenced writing on one of the pages. This page he tore out and handed Ferrers.
"What's this?" queried the guide.
"That's an order on the Dugout City Bank to hand you one thousand dollars."
Ferrers stared at the piece of paper incredulously.
"What'll the feller pay me in?" he demanded. "Lead at twelve cents a pound? And say, will he hand me the lead out of an automatic gun?"
"If the paying teller serves you that way," rejoined Reade, "you'll have a right to feel peevish about it. But he won't. Hazelton and I have the money in bank to stand behind that check."
"You have?" inquired Ferrers, opening his eyes wide. "Fellers at your age have that much money in banks"