I wouldn't hesitate to dissolve all my spare pearls in vinegar,
if I felt an inclination for that kind of a drink, but I must draw a
line at greenback fuel. Where did you get them? Whose are they? And
why in the name of poverty do you want them burned up? Has your wealth
become a burden to you?"
"Are they really bills?" asked Winn, incredulously.
For answer Billy Brackett struck another match, and all saw that he
indeed held a package of bank-notes with charred ends. The same light
showed Winn to be surrounded by a number of similar packages.
The expression of complete bewilderment that appeared on the boy's face
as he saw these was so ludicrous that, as the match went out, a shout
of laughter rang through the "shanty."
"As long as they are so plenty, I guess we might as well burn them,
after all," said Billy Brackett, quietly. With this he struck another
match, relighted the little bundle of bills in his hand, and again
thrust it into the stove.
For a moment the others believed him to have lost his senses. Winn
made a wild dash at the stove door, but Billy Brackett caught his arm.
"It's all right, and I'm not half so big a fool as I may appear," he
said, laughing. "Do you remember our late friends the 'river-traders'?
And that they were counterfeiters? And that they occupied this very
'shanty' for several weeks? And that, after losing it, they made
desperate attempts to regain its possession? And that we wondered why
they had ceiled this room; also, what had become of their stock in
trade?"
To each of these questions Winn gave an affirmative answer.
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