The Matagorda County Tribune. (Bay City, Tex.), Vol. 64, No. 7, Ed. 1 Friday, January 13, 1911 Page: 3 of 8
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: Matagorda County Area Newspaper Collection and was provided to The Portal to Texas History by the Matagorda County Museum & Bay City Public Library.
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Friends in San Rosario
By O. HENRY
(Copyright, by Ainslee Magazine Co.)
HE west-bound stopped
at San Rosario on
at 8:20 a. m.
with
thick
A man
black
leather wallet under
his arm left the train
and walked rapidly
up the main street of
the town. There were
other passengers who
also got off at San Rosario, but they
either slouched limberiy over to the
railroad eating house or the Silver
Dollar saloon, or joined the groups of
idlers about the station
Indecision had no part in the move-
ments of the man with the wallet. He
was short in stature, but strongly
built, with very light, closely trimmed
hair, smooth, determined face, and
aggressive, gold-rimmed nose glasses
He was well dressed In the prevailing
eastern style. His air denoted a quiet
but Conscious reserve force, if not
actual authority.
After walking a distance of three
squares he came to the center of the
town's business area Here another
street of importance crossed the
main one, forming the hub of San
Rosario's life and commerce. Upon
one corner stood the postoffice Upon
another Rubensky’s clothing empori-
mm The other two diagonally oppos-
ing corners were occupied by the
town’s two banks, the First National
and the Stockmen's National. Into the
First National bank of San Rosario
the newcomer walked never slowing
his brisk step, until he stood at the
cashier's window. The bank opened
for business at nine, and the working
force was already assembled, each
preparing his department for the days
business. The cashier was examining
the mail when, he noticed the stranger
standing at his window.
"Hank doesn't open 'til nine," he re-
marked, curtly, but without feeling,
lie had had to make that statement
so often to early birds since San
Rosario adopted city banking hours.
"I am well aware of that," said the
-other man, in cool, brittle tones. "Will
you kindly receive my card?"
The cashier drew the small, spot-
less, parallelogram inside the bars of
his wicket, and read:
—J P. C. NETTLEWlCK,
: National Bank Examiner. :
"Oh- er—will you walk around in-
side, Mr.- er- Nettlewick. Your first
visit -didn’t know your business, of
course. Walk right around, pir we."
The - examiner w as quickly inside
the sacred precincts of the bank,
where he was ponderously, introduced
to each employee in turn by Mr.
Edlinger, the cashier—a middle aged
gentleman of deliberation, discretion
and method.
"I was kind of expecting Sam Tur-
ner round again, pretty soon," said
Mr. Edlinger. “Sam’s been examining
us now, for about four years. I guess
you’ll find us all* right, though, con-
sidering the tightness in business.
Not overly much money on hand, but
able to stand the storms, sir, stand
the storms."
“Mr. Turner and I have been or-
dered by the comptroller to exchange
districts,” said the examiner, in his
decisive, formal tones. "He is cov-
ering my old territory in southern Illi-
nois and Indiana. I will take the cash
first, please.”
Perry Dorsey, the teller, was al-
ready arranging his cash on the coun-
ter for the examiner's inspection. He
knew it was right to a cent, and he
had nothing to fear, but he was nerv-
ous and flustered. So was every man
in the bank. There was something
so icy and swift, so impersonal and
uncompromising about this man that
his very presence seemed an accusa-
tion. He looked to be a man who
would never make nor overlook an
error.
Mr. Nettlewick first seized the cur-
rency, and with a rapid, almost jug
fling motion counted it by packages
Then he spun the sponge cup toward
him and verified the count by bills.
His thin, white fingers flew like some
•xpert musician's upon the keys of a
piano. He dumped the gold upon the
counter with a crash, and the coins
whined and sang as they skimmed
across the marble slab from the tips
sf his nimble digits. The air was full
of fractional currency when he came
to the halves and quarters. He count-
sd the last nickle and dime. He had
the scales brought, and he weighed
every sack of silver in the vault. He
questioned Dorsey concerning each of
the cash memoranda—certain checks,
tharge slips, etc., carried over from
the previous day's work—with unim-
peachable courtesy, yet with some-
thing so mysteriously momentous in
bis frigid manner that the teller was
reduced to pink cheeks and a stam-
mering tongue.
This newly imported examiner was
io different from Sam Turner. It had
been Sam's way to enter the bank
with a shout, pass the cigars and tell
the latest stories he had picked up on
his rounds. His customary greeting
to Dorsey bad been, "Hello, Perry!
Haven't skipped out with the boodle
yet, I see." Turner's way of counting
the cash had been different, too. He
would finger the packages of bills in a
tired kind of way, and then go Into
the vault and kick over a few sack of
silver, and the thing was done. Halves
and quarters and dimes? Not for
Sam Turner. "No chicken feed for
me," he would say when they were set
before him. "I'm not in the agricul-
tural department." But, then, Turner
was a Texan, an old friend of the
bank's president, and had known Dor-
sey since he was a baby.
While the examiner was counting
the cash, Maj. Thomas H Kingman—
known to every one as "Major Tom”
—the president of the Frist National,
drove up to the side door with his
old dun horse and buggy, and came
inside. He saw the examiner busy
with the money, and, going into the
"pony corral," as he called it, in
which his desk was railed off, he be-
gan to look over his letters.
Earlier, a little incident had oc-
curred that even the sharp eyes of the
examiner had failed to notice. When
he had begun his work at the cash
counter, Mr. Edlinger had winked sig-
nificantly at Roy Wilson, the youthful
bank messenger, and nodded his head
slightly toward the front door Roy
understood, took his hat and walked
leisurely out, with his collector’s book
under his arm. Once outside, he made
a beeline for the Stockmen’s Nation-
al. That bank was also getting ready
to open. No customers had, as yet,
presented themselves.
"Say, you people!" cried Roy, with
the familiarity of youth and long ac-
quaintance, "you want to get a move
on you. There's a new bank ex-
aminerover at the First, and he’s a
stem winder. _ He’s counting nickels
on Perry, and he’s got the whole out-
fit bluffed. - Mr. Edlinger gave me the
| tip to let you know." ...
Mr Buckley, president of the Stock-
men's National—a stout, elderly man,
looking like a farmer dressed for Sun-
day—heard Roy from his private office
in the rear, and called him.
"Has Major Kingman come down to
the bank yet?" he asked the boy.
"Yes, sir, he was-just driving up as
I left,” said Roy.
"I want you to take him a note. Put
it into his own hands as soon as you
get back”.
Mr. Buckley sat down and began
to write
Roy returned and handed to Major
Kingman .the envelope containing the
note — The major read it, folded it,
“and slipped It Into his vest pocket.
•He leaned back in his chair for a few
moments as if he were meditating
deeply, and then rose and went into
the vault. He came out with the
bulky, old-fashioned leather note case
stamped on the back in gilt letters,
"Bills Discounted." In this were the
notes due the bank with their attach-
ed securities, and the major, in his
rough way dumped the lot upon his
desk and began to sort them. over.
By this time Nettlewick had finish
ed his count of the cash. His pencil
fluttered like a swallow over the sheet
of paper on which he had set his fig
ures. He opened his black wallet,
which seemed to be also a kind of
secret memorandum book, made a few-
rapid figures in it, wheeled and trans-
fixed Dorsey with the glare of his
spectacles. That look seemed to say:
"You’re safe this time, but—”
“Cash all correct,” snapped the ex
aminer. He made a dash for the In-
dividual bookkeeper, and, for a few
minutes there was a fluttering of led-
ger leaves and a sailing o) balance
sheets through the air.
"How often do you balance your
passbooks?” he demanded, suddenly.
"Er—once a month,” faltered the
individual bookkeeper, wondering bow
many years they would give him.
“All right,” said the examiner, turn-
ing and charging upon the general
bookkeeper, who had the statements
of his foreign banks and their recon-
cilement memoranda ready. Every-
thing there was found to be all right.
Then the stub book of the certificates
of deposit. .Flutter flutter-ezip—zip
—check! All fight. List of over
drafts, please. Thanks. H’m-m. Un-
signed bills of the bank, next. All
right.
Then came the cashier’s turn, and
easy going Mr. Edlinger rubbed his
nose and polished his glasses nervous-
ly under the quick fire of questions
concerning the circulation, undivided
profits, bank real estate, and stock
ownership.
Presently Nettlewick was aware of
a big man towering above him at his
elbow—a man of sixty years of age.
rugged and hale, with a rough, griz-
zled beard, a mass of gray hair, and
a pair of penetrating blue eyes that
confronted the formidable glasses of
the examiner without a flicker.
“Er—Major Kingman, our president
—er—Mr. Nettlewick," said the cash-
ter. - •
Two men of very different types
shook hands. One was a finished
product of the world of straight lines,
conventional methods and formal af-
fairs. The other was something freer,
wider and nearer to nature. Tom
Kingman had not been cut to any pat-
tern. He had been mule-driver, cow-
boy, ranger, soldier, sheriff, prospector
and cattleman. Now, when he was
bank president his old comrades from
the prairies, of the saddle, tent and
trail found no change in him. He
had made his fortune when Texas cat-
tle were at the high tide of value, and
had organised the First National
bank of San Rosario. In spite of his
largeness of heart and sometimes un-
wise generosity toward his old friends,
the bank had prospered, for Maj. Tom
Kingman knew men as well as be
knew cattle Of late years the cat-
tle business had gone to pieces, and
the major's bank was one of the few
whose losses had not been great.
“And now,’ said the examiner, brisk-
ly, pulling out his watch, “the last
thing is the loans. We will take them
up now, if you please.”
He had gone through the First Na-
tional at almost record-breaking speed
—but thoroughly, as he did every-
thing. The running order of the bank
was smooth and clean, and that had
facilitated his work. There was but
one other bank in the town. He re-
ceived from the government a fee of
$25 for each bank that he examined.
He should be able to go over those
loans and discounts in half an hour
If so, he could examine the other bank
immediately afterward, and catch the
11:46, the only other train that day
in the direction he was working Oth
erwise, he would have to spend the
night and Sunday in this uninterest-
ing western town. That is why Mr.
Nettlewick was rushing matters.
“Come with me, sir," said Major
Kingman, in his deep voice, that
united the southern drawl with the
rhythmic twang of the west; “we will
go over them together Nobody in the
bank knows those notes as I do. Some
of 'em are little wobbly on their legs,
and some are Mavericks without extra
many brands on their backs, but
they’ll most all pay out at the round-
up." .
The two sat down at the president's
desk. First, the examiner went
through the notes at lightning speed,
and added up their total, finding it to
agree with the amount of loans car-
ried on the book of daily balances.
Next, he took up the larger loans, in
quiring scrupulously into the condition
of their indorsers or securities. The
new examiner's mind seemed to
course and turn and make unexpected
dashes hither and thither like a blood-
hound seeking a trail. Finally be
pushed aside all the notes except a
Jew, which he arranged in a neat pile
before him, and began a dry, formal
little speech. ..
"I find, sir, the condition of your'
bank to be very good, considering the.
poor crops and the depression in the
cattle interests of your state. The
clerical work seems to be done ac-
curately and punctually. Your past-
due paper is moderate in amount, and
promises only a small loss. I would
recommend the calling in of - your
large loans, and the making of only
sixty or ninety-day or call loans until
general business revives. And now,
‘‘I OPENED THE SAFE AND THE MONEY WAS GONE.”
there is one thing more, and I will
have finished with the bank. Here
are six notes aggregating something
like $40,000. They are secured, ac-
cording to their faces by various
stocks, bonds, shares, etc., to the
value of 170.000. Those securities are
missing from the notes to which they
should be attached. I suppose you
have them in the safe or vault. You
w ill permit me to examine them."
Major Tom’s light-blue eyes turned
unflinchingly toward the examiner.
“No, sir," he said, in a low but
steady tone; "those securities are
neither in the safe nor the vault. I
have taken them. You may hold me
personally responsible for their ab-
sence."
Nettlewick felt a slight thrill. He
had not expected this. He had struck
a momentous trail when the hunt was
drawing to a close.
"Ah!" said the examiner. He wait-
ed a moment, and then continued:
“May I ask you to explain more defl-
nitely?"
“The securities were taken by me,"
repeated the major. "It was not for
my own use, but to save an old friend
in trouble Come in here, sir, and
we'll talk it over."
“Your statement," he began, "since
you have failed to modify it, amounts,"
as you must know, to a very serious
thing. You are aware, also, of what
my duty must compel me to do. I
shall have to go before the United
States commissioner and make—"
"I know, I know,” said Major Tom.
with a wave of his hand "You don’t
suppose I'd run a bank without being
posted on national banking laws and
the revised statutes! Do your duty
I'm not asking any favore But. I
spoke of my friend. I did want you sack, and locked them in the big safe
to bear me tell you about Bob." that belonged in the sheriff's office.
Nettlewick settled himself in his
chair, There would be no leaving
San Rosario for him that day. He
would have to telegraph to the comp-
troller of the currency; he would have
to swear out a warrant before the
United States commissioner for the
arrest of Major Kingman; perhaps he
would be ordered to close the bank
on account of the loss of the securi-
ties. It was not the first crime the
examiner had unearthed. Once or
twice the terrible upheaval of human
emotions that his Investigations had
loosed had almost caused a ripple in
his official calm. He had seen bank
men kneel and plead and cry like
women for a chance—an hour's time—
the overlooking of a single error. One
cashier had shot himself at his desk
before him. None of them had taken
it with the dignity and coolness of
this stern old westerner. Nettlewick
felt that he owed it to him at least
to listen if he wished to talk. With
his elbow on the arm of his chair,
and his square chin resting upon the
fingers of his right hand, the bank ex-
aminer waited to hear the confession
of the president of the First National
bank of San Rosario.
"When a man's your friend," began
Major Tom, somewhat didactically,
“for forty years, and tried by water,
fire, earth and cyclones, when you
can do him a little favor you feel like
doing it."
("Embezzle for him $70,000 worth
of securities," thought the examiner.)
"We were cowboys together. Bob
and 1," continued the major, speaking
slowly and deliberately, and musing
ly, as if his thoughts were rather of
the past than the critical present,
"and we prospected together for gold
and silver over Arizona, New Mexico
and a good part of California. We
were both in the war of 'sixty-one, but
in different commands. We've fought
Indians and horse thieves side by
side; we've starved for weeks in a
cabin in the Arizona mountains, burled
twenty feet deep in snow; we’ve rid-
den herd together when the wind blew -
so hard the lightning couldn't strike
— Well, Bob and 1 have been through
some rough spells since the first time
we met in the branding camp of the
old Anchor-Bar ranch. And during
that time we've found it necessary
more than once to help each other
out of tight places. In those days it
was expected of a man to stick to his
friend, and he didn't ask any credit
for it. Probably next day you'd need
him to get at your back and help
stand off a band of Apaches, or put a
tourniquet on your leg above a rattle
snake bite and ride for whisky. So,
after all, it was give and take, and if
you didn’t stand square with your
pardner, why, you might be shy one
when you needed him. But Bob was a
man who was willing to go further
than that. He never played a limit.
“Twenty years ago I was sheriff
of this county, and I made Bob my
chief deputy. That was before the
boom in cattle, when we both made
our stake. I was sheriff and col-
lector, and it was a big thing fpr me
then. I was married, and we bad a
boy and a girl—a four and a six year
old. There was a comfortable house
next to the courthouse, furnished by
the county, rent free, and I was
saving some money. Bob did most of
the office work. Both of us had seen
rough times and plenty of rustling and
danger, and I tell you it was great to
hear the rain dashing against the
windows of nights, and be warm and
safe and comfortable, and know you
could get up in the morning and be
shaved and have folks call you 'mis-
ter.’ And then, I had the finest wife
and kids that ever struck the range,
and my old friend with me enjoying
the first fruits of prosperity and white
shirts, and I guess I was happy. Yes,
I was happy about that time."
The major sighed and glanced casu-
ally out of the window. The bank
examiner changed his position, and
leaned his chin upon his other
hand.
"One winter," continued the major,
“the money for the county taxes came
pouring in so fast that I didn't have
time to take the stuff to the bank
for a week. I just shoved the checks
Into a cigar box and the money into a
that belonged in the sheriff’s office.
“I had been overworked that week,
and was about sick, anyway. My
nerves were out of order and my sleep
at night didn't seem to rest me. The
doctor bad some scientific name for
it, and I was taking medicine And so,
added to the rest, I went to bed at
night with that money on my mind.
Not that there was much need of be-
ing worried, for the safe was a good
one, and nobody but Bob and I knew
the combination. On Friday night
there was about $6,500 in cash in the
bag. On Saturday morning I went
to the office as usual. The safe was
locked and Bob was writing at his
desk. 1 opened the safe and the
money was gone. I called Bob, and
roused everybody in the courthouse
to announce the robbery. It struck
me that Bob took it pretty quiet, con-
sidering how much it reflected upon
both him and me.
"Two days went by. and we never
got a clew. It couldn't have been
burglars, for the safe had been opened
by the combination in the proper way.
People must have begun to talk, for
one afternoon In comes Alice—that's
my wife and the boy and girl, and
Alice stamps her foot, and her eyes
flash, and she cries out: ‘The lying
wretches—Tom, Tom!' I catch her in
a faint, and bring her 'round little by
little, and she lays her head down
and cries and cries for the first time
since she took Tom Kingman's name
and fortunes. And Jack and ZU la—
the youngsters—they were always
wild as tiger cubs to rush at Bob and
climb all over him whenever they
were allowed to come to the court-
house—they stood and kicked their
little shoes, and herded together like
scared partridges. They were having
their first trip down into the shadows
of life. Bob was working at his desk,
and he got up and went out without
a word. The grand jury was in ses-
sion then, and the next morning Bob
went before them and confessed that
he stole the money. He said he lost
It in a poker game. In fifteen minutes
they had found a true bill and sent
me to arrest the man with whom I’d
been closer than a thousand brothers
for many a year. : -
“I did it, and then I said to Bob,*
pointing: ‘There’s my house , and
here's my office, and up there's Maine,
and out that way is California, and
over there is Florida—and that's your
range 'til court meets. You’re in my
charge, and I take the responsibility.
You be here when you're wanted.'
"’Thanks, Tom,' he said, kind of
carelessly; ‘I was sort of hoping you
wouldn’t lock me -up. Court meets
next Monday, so if you don’t object.
I’ll just loaf around the office till then
I’ve got one favor to ask, if it isn’t too
much. If you'd let the kids come out
in the yard ’ once in a while and have
,a romp. I’d like it.’ , *
"‘Why not ? I answered him.
They're welcome, and so are you.
And come to my house, the same as
ever.’ You see, Mr. Nettlewick, you
can’t make a friend of a thief, but
neither can you make a thief of a
friend, all at once.”
The examiner made no answer. At
that moment was heard the shrill
whistle of a locomotive pulling into
the depot. That was the train on the*
little, narrow-gauge road that struck
into San Rosario from the south. The
major cocked his ear and listened for
a moment and looked at his watch
The narrow-gauge was in on time—
10:35. The major continued:
"So Bob hung around the office,
reading the papers and smoking. I put
another deputy to work in his place,
and, after a while, the first excite-
ment of the case wore off.
"One day* when we were alone in
the office Bob came over to where 1
was sitting. He was looking sort of
grim and blue—the same look ha used
to get when he'd been up watching for
Indians all night or herd riding.
“'Tom,' says he, 'It’s harder than
standing off redskins; it’s harder than
lying in the lava desert forty miles
from water; but I'm going to stick It
out to the end. You know that's
been my style. But If you'd tip me
the smallest kind of a sign—if you'd
just say: 'Bob, I understand,' why
it would make it lots easier.'
"I was surprised. 'I don’t know
what you mean, Bob,' 1 said. 'Of
course, you know that I'd do anything
under the sun to help you that I
could. But you've got me guessing.'
■"‘All right, Tom,’ was all he, said,
and he went back to his newspaper
and lit another cigar.
“It was the night before court met
when I found out what he meant. 1
went to bed that night with that same
old, light-headed, nervous feeling
come back upon me I dropped off to
sleep about midnight. When I awoke
I was standing, half dressed in one
of the courthouse corridors. Bob was
holding one of my arms, our family
doctor the other, and Alice was sha-
king me and half crying. She had
sent for the doctor without my khow
ing it, and when he came they had
found me out of bed and missing, and
had begun a search.
“'Sleepwalking,' said the doctor.
“All of us went* back to the house,
and the doctor told us some remark-
able stories about the strange things
people had done while in that condi-
tion I was feeling rather chilly after
my trip out, and, as my wife was out
of the room at the time, I pulled open
the door of an old wardrobe that stood
in the room and dragged out a big
quilt I had seen in there. With It
tumbled out the bag of money for
stealing which Bob was to be tried-
and convicted—in the morning.
"'How the jumping rattlesnakes did
that get there’' 1 yelled, and all hands
.must have seen how surprised I-was
Bob knew In a flash.
“'You darned old anoozer,' he said,
with the old-time look on his face, ‘I
saw you put it there. I watched you
open the safe and take it out, and 1
followed you. I looked through the
window and saw you hide it in that
I wardrobe.’
“Then you blankety blank, flor-
eared, sheep-headed coyote, what did
you say you took it, for ?′
"‘Because,’ said Bob, simply, I
didn't know you were asleep.’
"I saw him glance toward the door
of the room where Alice and Jack and
Zilla’were, and I knew then what it
meant to be a man's friend from
Bob’s point of view."
Major Tom paused, and again di-
rected his glance out of the window.
He saw some one in the Stockmen’s
National bank reach and draw a yel-
low shade down the whole length of
its plate-glass, big front window, al-
though the position of the sun did not
seem to warrant such a defensive
movement against its rays.
Nettlewick sat up straight in his
chair. He had listened patiently, but
without consuming interest, to the
major's story. It had impressed him
as irrelevant to the situation, and it
could certainly have no effect upon
the consequences. Those western peo-
ple, be thought, had an exaggerated
sentimentality. They were not Dust-
ness-like. The}' needed to be protect-
ed from their friends. Evidently the
major had concluded. And what he
said amounted to nothing.
“May 1 ask," said the examiner, “if
you have anything further to say that
bears directly upon the question of
those abstracted securities?"
• “Abstracted securities, girl," Major
Tom turned suddenly in his chair, his
blue eyes flashing upon the examiner.
"What do you mean, sir?"
He drew from his coat pocket •
batch of folded papers held together
by a rubber band, and tossed them
into Nettlewick’s bands, and rose to
his feet.
"You'll find those securities there,
sir, every stock, bond and share of
'em. 1 took them from the notes
while you were counting the cash. Ex-
amine and compare them for 'your-
self."
The major led the way back into
the banking-room. The examiner,
astounded, perplexed, nettled, at sea. -
followed. He felt that he had been
made the victim of something that
was not exactly a hoax, but that left
him in the shoes of one who had been
played upon, used, and then discard-
ed, without even an inkling of the
game. Perhaps, also, his official po-
sition had been Irreverently juggled
with. But there was nothing he
could take hold of. An official report
of the matter would, be an absurdity.
And,- somehow, he felt that he would
never know anything more about the
matter than he- did then.
Frigidly, mechanically, Nettlewick
examined the securities, found them
to tally with the notes, gathered his-
black wallet to depart. . -.
"I will say," he protested, turning
the, indignant glare of his glassee—
upon Major Kingman, "that your
statements—your misleading state-
ments, which you do not condescend
to explain—do not appear to be quite
the ’thing, regarded either as busmess,
or humor. I do not understand such
motives or 'action.
, Major Tom looked down at him se-
renely and not unkindly.
"Son,” he said, "there are plenty of
things in the chaparral, and on the
prairies, and up the canyons that you
don’t understand. But I want to thank
you for listening to a garrulous old
man’s prosy stories. We old Texans
love to talk about our adventures and
our old comrades, and the home folks
have long ago learned to run when
we begin with ‘Once upon a time,’ so
we have to spin our yarns to the
stranger within our gates."
The major smiled, but the examiner
only bowed coldly, and abruptly quit-
ted the bank. They, saw him travel
diagonally across the street in a
straight line and enter the Stock-
mens National bank.
Major Tom sat down at his desk,
and drew from his vest pocket the
note Roy had given him. He bad read
it once, but hurriedly, and now, with
something like a twinkle in his eyes,
he read again. These were the words
he read:
"Dear Tom:
"I hear there’s one of Uncle Sam’s
grayhounds going through you, and
that means that we’ll catch him inside
of a couple of hours, maybe. Now, 1
want you to do something for me.
We’ve got just $2,200 in the bank, and
the law requires that we have $20,-
000. I let Rose and Fisher have $18,-
000 late yesterday afternoon to buy
up that Gibson bunch of cattle. They’ll
realize $40,000 In less than thirty
days on the transaction, but that
won’t make my cash on band look any
prettier to that bank examiner. Now,
I can't show him those notes, for
they're just plain notes of hand with-
out any security in sight, but you
know very well that Pink Ross and
Jim Fisher are two of the finest white
men God ever made, and they’ll do the
square thing. You remember Jim
Fisher—he was the one who shot that
faro dealer in El Paso. I wired Sam
Bradshaw’s bank to send me $20,000,
and it will get in on the narrow-gauge
at 10:35. You can't let a bank exam-
iner in to count $2,200 and close your
doors. Tom, you hold that examiner.
Hold him. Hold him if you have to
rope him and sit on his head. Watch
our front window after the narrow-
gauge gets in, and when we've got the
cash inside we'll pull the shade for a
signal. Don't turn him loose till
then. I'm counting on you, Tom.
“Your Old Pard,
BOB BUCKLEY,
“Prest. Stockmen’s National."
The major began to tear the note
into small pieces and throw them into
hie waste basket. He gave a satis-
fied little chuckle as he did so.
"Confounded old reckless cow-
puncher!” he growled, ' contentedly, •
"that pays him some on account for
what he tried to do for me in the sher
iff’s office 20 years ago.”
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The Matagorda County Tribune. (Bay City, Tex.), Vol. 64, No. 7, Ed. 1 Friday, January 13, 1911, newspaper, January 13, 1911; Bay City, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1696438/m1/3/?q=%22%22~1&rotate=90: accessed July 16, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Matagorda County Museum & Bay City Public Library.