"That's the truth," said Jim. "Benedict ain't no pauper, nor hain't been since he left the poor-house."
"If he knows about old Tilden," said Yates, "and I'm afraid he does, he'll know that I'm on the wrong scent. If he doesn't know about him, he'll naturally conclude that the dead man was Mr. Benedict. That will answer his purpose."
"Old Belcher ain't no fool," said Jim.
"Well," said Yates, "why doesn't Mr. Benedict come out like a man and claim his rights? That would relieve me, and settle all the difficulties of the case."
Benedict had nothing to say for this, for there was what he felt to be a just reproach in it.
"It's the way he's made," replied Jim—"leastways, partly. When a man's ben hauled through hell by the har, it takes 'im a few days to git over bein' dizzy an' find his legs ag'in; an' when a man sells himself to old Belcher, he mustn't squawk an' try to git another feller to help 'im out of 'is bargain. Ye got into't, an' ye must git out on't the best way ye can."
"What would you have me do?" inquired Yates.
"I want to have ye sw'ar, an' sign a Happy David."
"A what?"
"A Happy David. Ye ain't no lawyer if ye don't know what a Happy David is, and can't make one."