Humorous stories; Mistaken identity -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
“Lord bless me, that’s just what he is,” said Sellers, with something
like a groan, “it’s exactly what he is; there’s a contribution in him
from every ancestor he ever had. In him there’s atoms of priests,
soldiers, crusaders, poets, and sweet and gracious women—all kinds and
conditions of folk who trod this earth in old, old centuries, and
vanished out of it ages ago, and now by act of ours they are summoned
from their holy peace to answer for gutting a one-horse bank away out
on the borders of Cherokee Strip, and it’s just a howling outrage!”
“Oh, don’t talk like that, Colonel; it takes the heart all out of me,
and makes me ashamed of the part I am proposing to—”
“Wait—I’ve got it!”
“A saving hope? Shout it out, I am perishing.”
“It’s perfectly simple; a child would have thought of it. He is all
right, not a flaw in him, as far as I have carried the work. If I’ve
been able to bring him as far as the beginning of this century, what’s
to stop me now? I’ll go on and materialize him down to date.”
“Land, I never thought of that!” said Hawkins all ablaze with joy
again. “It’s the very thing. What a brain you have got! And will he
shed the superfluous arm?”
“He will.”
“And lose his English accent?”
“It will wholly disappear. He will speak Cherokee Strip—and other forms
of profanity.”
“Colonel, maybe he’ll confess!”
“Confess? Merely that bank robbery?”
“Merely? Yes, but why ‘merely’?”
The Colonel said in his most impressive manner: “Hawkins, he will be
wholly under my command. I will make him confess every crime he ever
committed. There must be a thousand. Do you get the idea?”
“Well—not quite.”
“The rewards will come to us.”
“Prodigious conception! I _never_ saw such a head for seeing with a
lightning glance all the outlying ramifications and possibilities of a
central idea.”
“It is nothing; it comes natural to me. When his time is out in one
jail he goes to the next and the next, and we shall have nothing to do
but collect the rewards as he goes along. It is a perfectly steady
income as long as we live, Hawkins. And much better than other kinds of
investments, because he is indestructible.”
“It looks—it really does look the way you say; it does indeed.”
“Look?—why it _is_. It will not be denied that I have had a pretty wide
and comprehensive financial experience, and I do not hesitate to say
that I consider this one of the most valuable properties I have ever
controlled.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do, indeed.”
“O, Colonel, the wasting grind and grief of poverty! If we could
realize immediately. I don’t mean sell it all, but sell part—enough,
you know, to—”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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