“I dunno—dang it all, Sleepy. Never said nothin’ to nobody about any. Never left no will nor nothin’. Reckon he feels that he’s so danged tough that he’ll outlive anybody else anyway, so why make a will? I’ve got somethin’—wait.”
Windy goes into the house and brings out a couple of sheets of paper.
“This is all I can find,” says he. “Looks like Mike started to write a letter and then tore it up, ’cause this is just part of it.”
The top part of the letter had been torn off, but what we’ve got reads like this:
--family, and I reckon you’ll have it all when I pass out. Feller back East tells me where he thinks you are, so I’m taking a chance. I would rather like to see you, but this ain’t no--
And the rest is torn off.
“Here is the envylope,” says Windy. “Same as the old man’s, only his middle letter was H, and this’n is J. What is a em-po-ree-um?”
“I dunno,” says Hashknife, looking at the envelope. “Must be somethin’.”
“My ——, you’ve got a fine head on yuh,” says Windy. “You’re goin’ to do well.”
“I sure has,” grins Hashknife, “and I’ll prove it to yuh, Windy. I’ve got a friend in Frisco—a lawyer, and he’ll find out for us.”