"Unhappily, my sacred calling has left me quite unfamiliah with the carnal affairs of this most wicked country."
"Well, what's wrong? The bank wired yesterday morning that they held money to meet this draft. Stone showed me the telegram."
"Up to noon," said the preacher, "there was money in the bank; some forty thousand dollars in the name of Jabez Y. Stone, ready to meet yo' draft, and pay for the cattle."
"I know that!"
"At noon yesterday that money was withdrawn from the bank."
"Impossible!"
"Jabez Y. Stone had given a previous draft to another man for the money. The other man got the plunder—the—ahic!—dross, I mean. Oh that we poh mortals should so crave after the dross which perisheth!"
"Don't preach!"
"Oh, my young brother, the little word in season——"
"I wish it would choke you. Now who drew that money?"