"Why, my dear old friend, do you suppose I would let you lose it? I can pay it without a flinch; more than that, if you are in need of money, I can let you have five times as much." He tucked the note into his pocket and took up his check-book. "Why, Sammy, I don't know whuther to laugh or to cry or to holler when you talk like that. But I don't need no money, and especially none that you have raked together." "But you must take this," said Lyman, handing him a check. "It's the first check I ever made out," he added, laughing. "Then you ain't been rich very long, Sammy," said the old man, taking the piece of paper. "But you've writ this in jest like you are used to it. You can't write as well, however, as Blake Peel. I reckon he's the finest writer in this country. Why, he can make a bird with a pen, and it looks like it's jest ready to fly--he's teached writin' school all up and down the creek, and I reckon he's the best. But I'm sorry about this thing, and I don't feel like takin' it." "You've got to take it." "Then I must. But you know where it is any time you want it," he said, putting the check into his pocket. "And now, Sammy, what are you going to do with that feller? The note wasn't signed as a firm, but your names was put on individual, and as you didn't write your name he forged it. What are you goin' to do with him?" "I don't know. Here comes Warren. Don't say anything more about it now." Warren came in. "Uncle Buckley," said he, "here is a cigar that will make you forget your woes." "Thank you, my son. I don't believe I've got time to smoke jest now. I'll take this thing home and crumble it up and mother and I will smoke it in our pipes." Warren staggered. "Gracious alive, don't do that!" he cried. "All right, my son, I'll set out on a stump and burn it in the moonlight, a thinkin' of you and Sammy. Well, I must be movin'. Good-bye, all han's, and ricollect that my latch-string hangs on the outside." They shook hands affectionately, and then sat in silence, listening to his footsteps as he trod slowly down the stairs. "Why don't you light your cigar?" Warren asked. "I don't care to smoke just now," Lyman answered. "I have some business on the other side of the square." CHAPTER XXXII. LAUGHED AT HIS WEAKNESS.