He only had two more papers left.
After a while he finished them, and then he yawned and asked me what I wanted.
"Renowned and honored Imbecile: on or about--" "You are the beef-contract man.

Give me your papers." He took them, and for a long time he ransacked his odds and ends.
Finally he found the Northwest Passage, as I regarded it--he found the long lost record of that beef contract--he found the rock upon which so many of my ancestors had split before they ever got to it.

I was deeply moved.

And yet I rejoiced--for I had survived.

I said with emotion, "Give it me.