Mr. Chisholm did not know what to say, and so he looked around at us for a solution. But the men all shook their heads and looked down at the floor. They didn’t want anyone to act as Bob’s guardian, but would rather that he should spend the money as he pleased. Finally Bob came to the rescue.
“I will sign it with Mr. Chisholm, but with no one else,” said he. “This lawyer knows more than we do.”
“And won’t you never ask my consent toward spending your money?”
“No, sir; I never will.”
“Then I will sign it. Remember, Bob, there aint to be any foolishness about this.”
Mr. Chisholm took the pen from the lawyer’s hand and signed his name in bold characters, and although there was no occasion for Bob’s signature in a legal point of view, the lawyer was afraid to object to it, for there were too many pistols in the party.
“There, now; it is all right, and you’re master of that money,” said Mr. Chisholm, drawing a long breath of relief. “Nobody can get it away from us now. How much?”
“Ten dollars,” said the lawyer.
As Bob didn’t have any money, Henderson having taken all he had, Mr. Chisholm counted out the ten dollars, after which he held out his hand for the will. There was where he made another mistake. The surrogate kept that will upon file, and then there was no chance of its being lost, and anyone, years hence, if there happened to be any legal points with regard to the disposition of this property, could have the will to refer to. But Mr. Chisholm didn’t know that.
“I will take that document if you have got through with it,” said he.