Chapter 32 The Disposal of a Bonanza 

'SUCH was Ritter's narrative,' said I to my two friends. There was a profound and impressive silence, which lasted a considerable time; then both men broke into a fusillade of exciting and admiring ejaculations over the strange incidents of the tale; and this, along with a rattling fire of questions, was kept up until all hands were about out of breath. Then my friends began to cool down, and draw off, under shelter of occasional volleys, into silence and abysmal reverie. For ten minutes now, there was stillness. Then Rogers said dreamily-- 

'Ten thousand dollars.' 

Adding, after a considerable pause-- 

'Ten thousand. It is a heap of money.' 

Presently the poet inquired-- 

'Are you going to send it to him right away?' 

'Yes,' I said. 'It is a queer question.' 

No reply. After a little, Rogers asked, hesitatingly: 

'ALL of it?--That is--I mean--' 

'Certainly, all of it.' 

I was going to say more, but stopped--was stopped by a train of thought which started up in me. Thompson spoke, but my mind was absent, and I did not catch what he said. But I heard Rogers answer-- 

'Yes, it seems so to me. It ought to be quite sufficient; for I don't see that he has done anything.' 

Presently the poet said-- 

'When you come to look at it, it is more than sufficient. Just look at it--five thousand dollars! Why, he couldn't spend it in a lifetime! And it would injure him, too; perhaps ruin him--you want to look at that. In a little while he would throw his last away, shut up his shop, maybe take to drinking, maltreat his motherless children, drift into other evil courses, go steadily from bad to worse--' 
Did they eventually become quiet again?
Then my friends began to cool down, and draw off, under shelter of occasional volleys, into silence and abysmal reverie