"Give me your arm, Jim. I'm light-headed."
With Jim's assistance Sam made his way to Fulton Ferry, but instead of going over in the next boat he leaned back in his seat in the waiting-room, and rested. Jim walked about on the pier, his hands in his pocket, with an independent air. He felt happy and prosperous. Never before in his life, probably, had he had so much money in his possession. Some men with a hundred thousand dollars would have felt poorer than Jim with nine dollars and a half.
By and by Sam felt enough better to start on his homeward journey. Jim agreed to accompany him as far as the New York side.
"I don't know what the doctor will say when he finds out the money is gone," said Sam, soberly.
"You just tell him it was stolen from you by a pickpocket."
"Suppose he don't believe it?"
"He can't prove nothin'."
"He might search me."
"So he might," said Jim. "I'll tell you what you'd better do."
"What?"