_Quick_!"
A moment later these corruscating gems were swept into Uncle Jap's
hand.
"What did they cost ye?"
"Twenty-seven hundred dollars."
"Suffering Moses! Endorse that as paid on the back of the note. Got it
down? Yas." Uncle Jap folded up the note and placed it carefully in a
large pocket-book. "Now write out, good an' plain, what I tell ye.
Ready? Date an' address first. That's right. Now----"
Obviously, he was pulling himself together for a tremendous literary
effort. Mrs. Panel had hold of my arm, and was squeezing it hard.
Uncle Jap began--
"'_This is to certify that I, Nathaniel Leveson, the undersigned,
have been fooling with the wrong end of a mule, viz., Jasper Panel,
who's as self-opinionated a critter as ever marched with Sherman to
the Sea_----' What air you doing?"
Leveson had laid down his pen. "This is farce," he said sharply.
"We'll hev your criticism after the play is over," retorted Uncle Jap
decisively. "I'm talkin' now. Pick up that thar pen, and don't lay it
down agen till I tell ye, or," the muzzle of the Colt almost touched
the perspiring forehead of the Colossus, "or else, by Golly, thar'll
be a terr'ble muss to clean up in here to-morrer mornin'.
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