Rankin was that honest I often told him he would land behind the bars as an embezzler some day.

But Rankin had done it this time, for fair; tucked away in a pocket of the waistcoat was money--real, legal, lawful tender--m-o-n-e-y! I don't suppose the time will ever come when it will look as good to me as it did right then.

I held those bank-notes--there were two of them, double XX's--to my face and sniffed them like I'd never seen the like before and never expected to again.

And the funny part was that I forgot all about wanting the gray trousers, and all about the faults of Rankin.

My feet were on bottom again, and my head on top.