“Hang those ashes, I’m tired of them; I’ll give them to my father.”
Slowly and painfully the statesman worked the truth into his head that this was really a flesh and blood young man, and not the insubstantial resurrection he and Sellers had so long supposed him to be. Then he said with feeling—
“I’m so glad; so glad on Sally’s account, poor thing. We took you for a departed materialized bank thief from Tahlequah. This will be a heavy blow to Sellers.” Then he explained the whole matter to Berkeley, who said:
“Well, the Claimant must manage to stand the blow, severe as it is. But he’ll get over the disappointment.”
“Who—the colonel? He’ll get over it the minute he invents a new miracle to take its place. And he’s already at it by this time. But look here—what do you suppose became of the man you’ve been representing all this time?”
“I don’t know. I saved his clothes—it was all I could do. I am afraid he lost his life.”
“Well, you must have found twenty or thirty thousand dollars in those clothes, in money or certificates of deposit.”
“No, I found only five hundred and a trifle. I borrowed the trifle and banked the five hundred.”
“What’ll we do about it?”
“Return it to the owner.”