Intense interest in the result of the counting. One hundred and ten
dollars! The Friend selected one of the best engraved of the notes,
and appealed to the crowd if they thought that was the square thing
to do. They did so think, and David Thomas said it was abundant.
And then said the Friend:
"I'm exceedingly grateful to you besides. Washington's hair is
getting scarce, and I did not want to lose these few hairs, gray as
they are. You've done the honest thing, Mr. Thomas, as was expected
of you. You might have kept the whole. But I reckon if there had
been five hundred dollars in the book and you had kept it, it
wouldn't have done you half as much good as giving it up has done;
and your reputation as an honest man is worth a good deal more than
this pocket-book. [The Professor was delighted with this sentiment,
because it reminded him of a Sunday-school.] I shall go away with a
high opinion of the honesty of Mitchell County."
"Oh, he lives in Yancey," cried two or three voices. At which there
was a great laugh.
"Well, I wondered where he came from." And the Mitchell County
people laughed again at their own expense, and the levee broke up.
It was exceedingly gratifying, as we spread the news of the recovered
property that afternoon at every house on our way to the Toe, to see
what pleasure it gave. Every man appeared to feel that the honor of
the region had been on trial - and had stood the test.
The eighteen miles to Burnsville had now to be added to the morning
excursion, but the travelers were in high spirits, feeling the truth
of the adage that it is better to have loved and lost, than never to
have lost at all. They decided, on reflection, to join company with
the mail-rider, who was going to Burnsville by the shorter route, and
could pilot them over the dangerous ford of the Toe.
The mail-rider was a lean, sallow, sinewy man, mounted on a sorry
sorrel nag, who proved, however, to have blood in her, and to be a
fast walker and full of endurance. The mail-rider was taciturn, a
natural habit for a man who rides alone the year round, over a lonely
road, and has nothing whatever to think of. He had been in the war
sixteen months, in Hugh White's regiment, - reckon you've heerd of
him?
"Confederate?"
"Which?"
"Was he on the Union or Confederate side?"
"Oh, Union."
"Were you in any engagements?"
"Which?"
"Did you have any fighting?"
"Not reg'lar."
"What did you do?"
"Which?"
"What did you do in Hugh White's regiment?"
"Oh, just cavorted round the mountains."
"You lived on the country?"
"Which?"
"Picked up what you could find, corn, bacon, horses?"
"That's about so.
![On Horseback By Charles Dudley Warner
- You can count it
[handing it over]; there hain't been nothing taken out. I can't
read, but my friend here - Page 29](../images/travel.jpg)
