Whether I would try to pick their pockets when I arrived up with them, or knock them down with a dub, or what I would do I left to the future. I had enough to think of just then—that wood business to wind up and the matter of the future handling of Zebulon Kingsley to attend to—and a crazy chase across the continent ahead of me!
I tucked the paper deep, slapped Mr. Dawlin on the back, and hustled for up-country.
XVI—GRABBING A HUSBAND AND FATHER
WHEN I laid rising three thousand dollars in front of Zebulon Kingsley on his office table as my card of reintroduction to that glum gentleman, I really jumped him.
The money was in bills and there was a stack of it. A mere check would not have been half as impressive. A lot of men in this world are extravagant because they pay by check; handling real money makes one more appreciative of values, I think.
“I have wound up the wood-lot proposition to the last cent,” I informed him. “All collections made, all the men paid, and I hope you are as well satisfied as the rest. There’s the cash!”
“How much is there?” His voice trembled when he asked me.
“Count it.”