Part 38 (2/2)
”You've got to take it.”
”Then I must. But you know where it is any time you want it,” he said, putting the check into his pocket. ”And now, Sammy, what are you going to do with that feller? The note wasn't signed as a firm, but your names was put on individual, and as you didn't write your name he forged it. What are you goin' to do with him?”
”I don't know. Here comes Warren. Don't say anything more about it now.”
Warren came in. ”Uncle Buckley,” said he, ”here is a cigar that will make you forget your woes.”
”Thank you, my son. I don't believe I've got time to smoke jest now.
I'll take this thing home and crumble it up and mother and I will smoke it in our pipes.”
Warren staggered. ”Gracious alive, don't do that!” he cried.
”All right, my son, I'll set out on a stump and burn it in the moonlight, a thinkin' of you and Sammy. Well, I must be movin'.
Good-bye, all han's, and ricollect that my latch-string hangs on the outside.”
They shook hands affectionately, and then sat in silence, listening to his footsteps as he trod slowly down the stairs.
”Why don't you light your cigar?” Warren asked.
”I don't care to smoke just now,” Lyman answered. ”I have some business on the other side of the square.”
CHAPTER x.x.xII.
LAUGHED AT HIS WEAKNESS.
Lyman walked slowly across the public square. The lawyers, the clerks, the tradesmen, who had become acquainted with his habits were wont to say, as they saw him strolling about, ”There he goes, blind as a bat, with a story in his head.” And they commented upon him now, but they could see that he was not in a dreaming mood, for his head was high and his heels fell hard upon the ground. At the edge of the sidewalk he halted for a moment, and his eye ran along the signs over the doors. Then he stepped up to an open door and entered without pausing at the threshold. Caruthers was sitting with his face toward the door.
He flushed as Lyman entered, took his feet off the corner of the table and straightened himself back in his chair. Lyman stepped up to the table and without a word, stood there looking at him.
”Well, you have come at last,” said Caruthers, ”I have been sitting here day after day, waiting for you.”
”You expected me,” said Lyman.
”Yes, as I say I have been waiting for you day after day. But where is the constable? You didn't bring him along.”
Lyman took out the note. ”The fog that settled between us,” said he.
Caruthers nodded.
”I would have come sooner,” said Lyman, ”but the fog was not defined until a few moments ago.”
”And I suppose your plan is to send me to the penitentiary. Tell me what you intend to do--don't stand there looking at me that way. Give a man a chance to defend his honor.”
”Honor,” Lyman repeated, with a cold smile. ”You haven't as much honor as a hyena.”
”Well, then, let me say name.”
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