Sherman and his aids were carrying the two
sacks into the back of the cage, depositing them on a marble shelf.
"See!" The teller turned one over and a tinkling flood of shining golden
disks poured forth.
"Ah, bon! bon!" shrieked the little Frenchman, dancing up and down upon
his high-heeled boots. "If you have ze monnaie, zen I do not want heem."
He broke out of the line, happily humming a chanson. Half a dozen
people laughed.
"That's what I say," shouted other voices. "We don't want our money if
it's safe."
CHAPTER XXXVIII
KING STARTS THE BULLETIN
After several months of business convalescence, San Francisco found
itself recovered from the financial chaos of February. Many well-known
men and institutions had not stood the ordeal; some went down the
pathway of dishonor to an irretrievable inconsequence and destitution;
others profited by their misfortunes and still others, with the
dauntless spirit of the time, turned halted energies or aspirations to
fresh account. Among them was James King of William.
The name of his father, William King, was, by an odd necessity,
perpetuated with his own. There were many James Kings and to avert
confusion of identities the paternal cognomen was added.
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