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CHAPTER XXXH.
THE DISPOSAL O? A BONANZA.
* STJCH was Bitter's narrative,* said I to my two friends. There was
a profound and impressive silence, which lasted a considerable time;
then both men broke into a fusillade of exciting and admiring ejacu-
lations over the strange incidents of the tale; and this, along with a
rattling fire of questions, was kept np until all hands were about out
of breath. Then my friends began to cool down, and draw off,
under shelter of occasional volleys, into silence and abysmal reverie.
For ten minutes now, there was stillness. Then Eogers said
dreamily-"-
* Ten thousand dollars.*
Adding, after a considerable pause—
* Ten thousand. It is a heap of money/
Presently the poet inquired—
* Are you going to send it to Tnlm right away ? '
* Yes,* I said. * It is a queer question.'
No reply. After a little, Jtogers asked, hesitatingly:
* AU of it ?— That is— I mean-----'
* Certainly, all of it/
I was going to say more, but stopped—was stopped by a train of
thought which started up in me. Thompson spoke, but my mind
was absent, and I did not catch what he said. But I heard ILogers
answer—
* Yes, it seems so to me. It ought to be quite sufficient ; for I
don't see that Aa has done anything/
Presently the poet said—
'Whenyou come to look at it, it is more than sufficient. Just