"I'll sell it on Saturday," she promised.
Monday morning Mrs. Strong marched in with a large canvas money-bag in her hand. With Mrs. Perrigo's assistance she counted out the money, which was mostly in silver coins. Then she wrote in large figures, "$158.50," and pinned the paper on the wall by my head.
"Where on earth did you get that money?" I cried.
"Why, for the robe, of course."
"You never got all that for it."
"Yes, I did," she affirmed.
Then the truth dawned upon me. "Mrs. Strong!" I exclaimed, "you raffled the robe!"
"Yes," she laughed. "What are you going to do about it?"
Then she explained. Finding it impossible to get a fair price for the fur blanket she and Bunch-grass Bill had laid their heads together. They knew that I would not consent to a raffle, so they kept the matter quiet. Bill displayed the robe in front of his saloon. Shares were offered at fifty cents each. My lady friends of the mission sold tickets. Bill bought fifty and others of my friends did almost as well. Their purpose if they won the robe was to give it back to me.
What could I do? To rebuke their kindly deception would be ungracious indeed. With brimming eyes I thanked my friends, and Mrs. Perrigo got her money.