"Then it's all right," Tom said, "'cause if I asked anybody for money I might have to tell them why. Here's two Liberty Bonds," he said, placing his precious, and much creased documents in Thornton's hand. "You can get them cashed in New York. You have to start this morning so as to catch the eleven twenty train. I guess you'll get home to-morrow night maybe, hey? You have to give them their money before those fellows get there. You got to tell them how you made a mistake. Maybe if you don't have quite enough you'll be able to get a little bit more. This is because you helped me and on account of our being friends."
Thornton looked down into his hand and saw, through glistening eyes, the two dilapidated bonds, and a couple of crumpled ten-dollar bills and some odds and ends of smaller bills and currency. They represented the sumptuous fortune of Lucky Luke, alias Tom Slade.
"And I thought you were going to ..." Thornton began; "Slady, I can't do this; it's all you've got."
"It's no good to me," Tom said. "Anyway, you got to go back and get there before those fellows do. Then you can fix it."
Thornton hesitated, then shook his head. Then he went over and sat on the sill where they had talked before. "I can't do it, Tom," he said finally; "I just can't. Here, take it. This is my affair, not yours."
"You said we were good friends up here," Tom said; "it's nothing to let a friend help you. I can see you're smart, and some day you'll make a lot of money and you'll pay me back. But anyway, I don't care about that. I only bought them so as to help the government. If they'd let me help them, I don't see why you shouldn't."
Thornton, still holding the money in his hand looked up and smiled, half willingly, at his singular argument.
"How about the motor-boat—and the girl?" he asked wistfully.
"You needn't worry about that," Tom said simply, "maybe she wouldn't go anyway."
And perhaps she wouldn't have. It would have been just his luck.