"Thomas," said the deacon, "the best thing you can do is to deliver that letter yourself. An' don't let any grass grow under your feet, ef you ken help it."
"I'm goin' by the first hoss I ken steal," said Tom.
"An' tell her I'll be along ez soon as I pan out enough," continued the deacon.
"An' tell her," said Boston Ben, "that the gov'nor won't be much behind you. Tell her that when the crowd found out how game the old man was, and what was on his mind, that the court was so ashamed of hisself that he passed around the hat for Pet's benefit, and"—here Boston Ben thoughtfully weighed the hat in his hands—"and that the apology's heavy enough to do Europe a dozen times; I know it, for I've had to travel myself occasionally."
Here he deposited the venerable tile with its precious contents on the floor in front of the deacon. The old man looked at it, and his eyes filled afresh, as he exclaimed:
"God bless you! I wish I could do something for you in return."
"Don't mention it," said Boston Ben, "unless—you—You couldn't make up your mind to a match with English Sam, could you?"
"Come, boys," interrupted Stumpy Flukes; "its my treat—name your medicine—fill high—all charged?—now then—bottom up, to 'The meanest man at Blugsey's'!"
"That did mean you, deacon!" exclaimed Tom; "but I claim it myself now, so—so I won't drink it."
The remainder of the crowd clashed glasses, while Tom and his father-in-law bowed profoundly. Then the whole crowd went out to steal horses for the two men, and had them on the trail within an hour. As they rode off, Stumpy Flukes remarked: