So the king he blattered along, and managed to inquire about pretty much everybody and dog in town, by his name, and mentioned all sorts of little things that happened one time or another in the town, or to George's family, or to Peter.  And he always let on that Peter wrote him the things; but that was a lie:  he got every blessed one of them out of that young flathead that we canoed up to the steamboat.

Then Mary Jane she fetched the letter her father left behind, and the king he read it out loud and cried over it.  It give the dwelling-house and three thousand dollars, gold, to the girls; and it give the tanyard (which was doing a good business), along with some other houses and land (worth about seven thousand), and three thousand dollars in gold to Harvey and William, and told where the six thousand cash was hid down cellar.  So these two frauds said they'd go and fetch it up, and have everything square and above-board; and told me to come with a candle.  We shut the cellar door behind us, and when they found the bag they spilt it out on the floor, and it was a lovely sight, all them yaller-boys.  My, the way the king's eyes did shine!  He slaps the duke on the shoulder and says:

"Oh, _this_ ain't bully nor noth'n!  Oh, no, I reckon not!  Why, _bully_, it beats the Nonesuch, _don't_ it?"

The duke allowed it did.  They pawed the yaller-boys, and sifted them through their fingers and let them jingle down on the floor; and the king says:

"It ain't no use talkin'; bein' brothers to a rich dead man and representatives of furrin heirs that's got left is the line for you and me, Bilge.  Thish yer comes of trust'n to Providence.  It's the best way, in the long run.  I've tried 'em all, and ther' ain't no better way."

Most everybody would a been satisfied with the pile, and took it on trust; but no, they must count it.  So they counts it, and it comes out four hundred and fifteen dollars short.  Says the king:

"Dern him, I wonder what he done with that four hundred and fifteen dollars?"

They worried over that awhile, and ransacked all around for it.  Then the duke says:

"Well, he was a pretty sick man, and likely he made a mistake—I reckon that's the way of it.  The best way's to let it go, and keep still about it.  We can spare it."

"Oh, shucks, yes, we can _spare_ it.  I don't k'yer noth'n 'bout that—it's the _count_ I'm thinkin' about.  We want to be awful square and open and above-board here, you know.  We want to lug this h-yer money up stairs and count it before everybody—then ther' ain't noth'n suspicious.  But when the dead man says ther's six thous'n dollars, you know, we don't want to—"

"Hold on," says the duke.  "Le's make up the deffisit," and he begun to haul out yaller-boys out of his pocket.