John Sourwine, in need of cash, remembers that he buried a friend a couple of years ago, who asked to be buried with a twenty dollar note:
Sour John found the old sand cliff. In half an hour
he had dug out the body of McSkee, It still had a high
old shine on it, but it was better preserved than the
clothes. The twenty-dollar bill was still there, disrepu-
table but spendable.
"I'll take it now, when I have the need," Sour John
said softly. "And later, when I am flush again, I will
bring it backe here."
"Yes. You do that," said McSkee.
There are men in the world who would be startled
if a thing like that happened to them. Some of them
would have gasped and staggered back. The meaner
ones would have cried out. John Sourwine, of course, was
not a man like that. But he was human, and he did a
human thing:
well what he did do, you can read in the 900 Grandmothers Anthology.
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