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Updated: June 13, 2025
There was no money-belt around the waist next to the skin, nor did he find a gold-sack. In a breast pocket he lit on a small wallet. With fingers that swiftly went numb with the frost, he hurried through the contents of the wallet. There were letters with foreign stamps and postmarks on them, and several receipts and memorandum accounts, and a letter of credit for eight hundred dollars.
"Just like Goodson; it's got all the marks. He had only one vanity; he thought he could give advice better than any other person." "It settled the business, and saved us, Mary. The subject was dropped." "Bless you, I'm not doubting that." Then they took up the gold-sack mystery again, with strong interest. Soon the conversation began to suffer breaks interruptions caused by absorbed thinkings.
The Count was deeply intoxicated; nevertheless, he managed to carry himself with something of an air, and at the moment he was making himself heard with considerable vehemence. "I have been drinking, to be sure," he acknowledged, "but am I drunk? No. Damnation! There is the evidence." In his hand he was holding a small gold-sack, and this he shook defiantly under the officer's nose.
"Will five dollars save all of you from funerals for a day or several?" Pool testily cut the tale short. "Yes, Kanaka Oolea, and as well it will buy my wife a new comb and some tobacco for myself." From a gold-sack drawn from the hip-pocket of his dungarees, Hardman Pool drew the gold piece and tossed it accurately into the waiting hand.
And the woman, leaning against the bunk, raging and impotent, watched herself weighed out in yellow dust and nuggets in the scales erected on the grub-box. The scales were small, making necessary many weighings, and Messner with precise care verified each weighing. "There's too much silver in it," he remarked as he tied up the gold-sack. "I don't think it will run quite sixteen to the ounce.
"Just wait till I add up the figgers and weigh " He paused; he stooped; then he rose with something he had picked up from the floor beneath his feet. "What have you got, Ben?" It was Rock speaking. "Dam' if I know! There it is." The proprietor shoved a clean, new moose-skin gold-sack through the wicket. Rock examined the bag, then he lifted an inquiring gaze to Pierce Phillips.
Rouletta laid a cold hand upon the shivering, distracted creature before her. Sternly she said: "I believe you know who committed that murder. You act as if you did." "I'm a g-good guesser, but I can keep my mouth shut. I know when I'm well off. That's more than the Count knew." "And you probably know something about his robbery, too. I mean that gold-sack "
She saw Pierce and Josephine turn away hand in hand, their heads close together he had not even glanced in her direction; then Cavendish was speaking to her directly. At first she did not understand him, but finally made out that he was telling her that everything had been cleared up, including even the mystery of Count Courteau's gold-sack.
The young man addressed him civilly, although he felt that the fellow's presence was a menace and would lead to trouble. "Yes, and I'm pretty fat besides." He shook a well-laden gold-sack at the officer. "I reckon I can rustle thirteen dollars a month most anywhere, if I'm left alone." "What do you want in this place, anyhow?" demanded Burrell, curiously.
"No, you're not, Smoke. It's a pipe-dream. I'm asleep. Bime by I'll wake up, an' build the fire, an' start breakfast." "Well, my unbelieving friend, there's the dust. Heft it." So saying, Smoke tossed the bulging gold-sack upon his partner's knees. It weighed thirty-five pounds, and Shorty was fully aware of the crush of its impact on his flesh. "It's real," Smoke hammered his point home. "Huh!
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