A few weeks later Barnum, being in the California Menagerie, noticed that something ailed the pigeons. They had a sadly-mottled appearance. Their feathers had grown out, and they were half white. Adams had not yet noticed it, being too busy with his bears. But Barnum called him at once to the pigeon cage. "Look here, Adams," he said, "I'm afraid you are going to lose your Golden Pigeons. They must be very sick. Just see how pale they look! Good thing they're so common in California, so you can easily get some more, eh?" Adams looked at them a moment in astonishment, then turning to Barnum, and seeing that he could not suppress a smile, he indignantly exclaimed: "Blast the Golden Pigeons! You had better take them back to the Museum. You can't humbug me with your painted pigeons!" This was too much, and Barnum laughed till he cried, to witness the mixed look of astonishment and vexation which marked the grizzly features of old Adams. After the exhibition on Thirteenth Street and Broadway had been open six weeks, the doctor insisted that Adams should sell out his share in the animals and settle up his worldly affairs, for he assured him that he was growing weaker every day, and his earthly existence must soon terminate. "I shall live a good deal longer than you doctors think for," replied Adams, doggedly; and then, seeming after all to realize the truth of the doctor's assertion, he turned and said: "Well, Mr. Barnum, you must buy me out." A bargain was soon concluded. Arrangements had been made to exhibit the bears in Connecticut and Massachusetts during the summer, in connection with the Museum, and Adams insisted that Barnum should engage him to travel for the season and manage the bears. He offered to do it for $60 a week and expenses. Barnum replied that he would gladly make such an arrangement, but he feared Adams was not strong enough to stand it. "You are growing weaker every day," he said; "and would better go to your home and rest." "What will you give me extra if I will travel and exhibit the bears every day for ten weeks?" added old Adams, eagerly. "Five hundred dollars." "Done!" exclaimed Adams, "I will do it, so draw up an agreement to that effect at once. But mind you, draw it payable to my wife, for I may be too weak to attend to business after the ten weeks are up, and if I perform my part of the contract, I want her to get the $500 without any trouble." Barnum drew up a contract to pay him $60 per week for his services, and if he continued to exhibit the bears for ten consecutive weeks, to hand him, or his wife, $500 extra. "You have lost your $500!" exclaimed Adams on taking the contract; "for I am bound to live and earn it." "I hope you may, with all my heart, and a hundred years more if you desire it," replied Barnum. "Call me a fool if I don't earn the $500!" exclaimed Adams, with a triumphant laugh. The "show" started off in a few days, and at the end of a fortnight Barnum met it at Hartford, Connecticut.