“Hold him, Dave!” hollered Old King Brady, diving through the door.
Me and the other fellow held on like grim death, you bet. Let’s see, I forgot to say that the other fellow was Sam.
That was about the end of it altogether, for Old King Brady scooped in his pal at the point of the revolver just as he was coming through the door to find out what the row was all about.
It was a mighty lucky thing for me, too, that they happened to come along just as they did, for if they hadn’t I honestly believe I’d been a dead man in about one minute’s time.
We scooped ’em both, but we didn’t get their money, for of course the bag was stuffed with old newspaper. What became of it we never knew. Old King Brady found his in the drawer of the desk, though, and when I began to talk about it as counterfeit he only laughed at me.
“I was fooling you about that, Dave,” he said. “It’s every dollar of it good.”
Note.—Of course I wouldn’t have dared to handle counterfeit money any more for that purpose than any other, for it’s entirely against the law even to have the stuff in your possession.
I own I let Dave believe that it was counterfeit, although I didn’t actually tell him so, and I did this because I thought he’d be too cautious with it and spoil the whole game if he thought it was good.