I felt sure he'd be tickled to a stand-still--not!




CHAPTER VII.

JOHN HENRYS HAPPY HOME.

Early the next morning I broke camp and took the trail to town,
determined never to come back alive unless Bunch agreed to sell the
plantation to Uncle Peter.

The old gentleman had crowded his check for $20,000 into my
trembling hands the night before with instructions to deposit it in
my bank, and at my convenience I was to let him have the deed to
the place.

Well, if Bunch should refuse to play ball I could send the check
back to Uncle Peter, and a telegram to Clara J., telling her that I
was back in the flat, laid up with a spavined fetlock or something.

Uncle Peter was out in the garden planting puree of split peas or
some other spring vegetable when I started for the train, so all
the Recording Angel had to put down against me was the new batch of
Ochiltrees I told Clara J.

I soon located Bunch, and to my surprise found him more inclined to
josh than to jolt.