“You’re a cheap tinhorn. You never saw a thousand dollars.”
Mr. Pratt jumped up and down and tried to throw off the clutch of the men who were holding him.
I felt perfectly safe in that crowd; I made up my mind to keep prodding till I was sure that Mr. Pratt and his friends had developed enough interest in me so that they would give up all other business till they had settled their grudges.
I patted my breast pocket. “I always carry ten thousand dollars around with me just to keep the draughts off my chest. I find money better than a folded newspaper,” I told him.
I had been keeping my eye on the stage-coach for some few minutes. It had hauled up at the post-office. The driver came out with mail-bags and tossed them into the boot.
“Landlord, will you fetch our valises?” I asked.
“Certainly, sir!”
“I’ve got a few thousand in my own pocket,” yelled Pratt.
“So have I!” howled Dawlin.
“And we’ll spend it getting to you,” they shouted in chorus.