Chapter: CHAPTER XX. REAPPEARANCE OF ONE WHO MAY BE REMEMBERED.


The herb-doctor had not moved far away, when, in advance of him, this
spectacle met his eye. A dried-up old man, with the stature of a boy of
twelve, was tottering about like one out of his mind, in rumpled clothes
of old moleskin, showing recent contact with bedding, his ferret eyes,
blinking in the sunlight of the snowy boat, as imbecilely eager, and, at
intervals, coughing, he peered hither and thither as if in alarmed
search for his nurse. He presented the aspect of one who, bed-rid, has,
through overruling excitement, like that of a fire, been stimulated to
his feet.

"You seek some one," said the herb-doctor, accosting him. "Can I assist
you?"

"Do, do; I am so old and miserable," coughed the old man. "Where is he?
This long time I've been trying to get up and find him. But I haven't
any friends, and couldn't get up till now. Where is he?"

"Who do you mean?" drawing closer, to stay the further wanderings of one
so weakly.

"Why, why, why," now marking the other's dress, "why you, yes you--you,
you--ugh, ugh, ugh!"

"I?"

"Ugh, ugh, ugh!--you are the man he spoke of. Who is he?"

"Faith, that is just what I want to know."

"Mercy, mercy!" coughed the old man, bewildered, "ever since seeing him,
my head spins round so. I ought to have a guard_ee_an. Is this a
snuff-colored surtout of yours, or ain't it? Somehow, can't trust my
senses any more, since trusting him--ugh, ugh, ugh!"

"Oh, you have trusted somebody? Glad to hear it. Glad to hear of any
instance, of that sort. Reflects well upon all men. But you inquire
whether this is a snuff-colored surtout. I answer it is; and will add
that a herb-doctor wears it."

Upon this the old man, in his broken way, replied that then he (the
herb-doctor) was the person he sought--the person spoken of by the other
person as yet unknown. He then, with flighty eagerness, wanted to know
who this last person was, and where he was, and whether he could be
trusted with money to treble it.

"Aye, now, I begin to understand; ten to one you mean my worthy friend,
who, in pure goodness of heart, makes people's fortunes for them--their
everlasting fortunes, as the phrase goes--only charging his one small
commission of confidence. Aye, aye; before intrusting funds with my
friend, you want to know about him. Very proper--and, I am glad to
assure you, you need have no hesitation; none, none, just none in the
world; bona fide, none. Turned me in a trice a hundred dollars the other
day into as many eagles."

"Did he? did he? But where is he? Take me to him."

"Pray, take my arm! The boat is large! We may have something of a hunt!
Come on! Ah, is that he?"

"Where? where?"

"O, no; I took yonder coat-skirts for his. But no, my honest friend
would never turn tail that way. Ah!----"

"Where? where?"

"Another mistake. Surprising resemblance. I took yonder clergyman for
him. Come on!"

Having searched that part of the boat without success, they went to
another part, and, while exploring that, the boat sided up to a landing,
when, as the two were passing by the open guard, the herb-doctor
suddenly rushed towards the disembarking throng, crying out: "Mr.
Truman, Mr. Truman! There he goes--that's he. Mr. Truman, Mr.
Truman!--Confound that steam-pipe., Mr. Truman! for God's sake, Mr.
Truman!--No, no.--There, the plank's in--too late--we're off."

With that, the huge boat, with a mighty, walrus wallow, rolled away from
the shore, resuming her course.

"How vexatious!" exclaimed the herb-doctor, returning. "Had we been but
one single moment sooner.--There he goes, now, towards yon hotel, his
portmanteau following. You see him, don't you?"

"Where? where?"

"Can't see him any more. Wheel-house shot between. I am very sorry. I
should have so liked you to have let him have a hundred or so of your
money. You would have been pleased with the investment, believe me."

"Oh, I _have_ let him have some of my money," groaned the old man.

"You have? My dear sir," seizing both the miser's hands in both his own
and heartily shaking them. "My dear sir, how I congratulate you. You
don't know."

"Ugh, ugh! I fear I don't," with another groan. "His name is Truman, is
it?"

"John Truman."

"Where does he live?"

"In St. Louis."

"Where's his office?"

"Let me see. Jones street, number one hundred and--no, no--anyway, it's
somewhere or other up-stairs in Jones street."

"Can't you remember the number? Try, now."

"One hundred--two hundred--three hundred--"

"Oh, my hundred dollars! I wonder whether it will be one hundred, two
hundred, three hundred, with them! Ugh, ugh! Can't remember the number?"

"Positively, though I once knew, I have forgotten, quite forgotten it.
Strange. But never mind. You will easily learn in St. Louis. He is well
known there."

"But I have no receipt--ugh, ugh! Nothing to show--don't know where I
stand--ought to have a guard_ee_an--ugh, ugh! Don't know anything. Ugh,
ugh!"

"Why, you know that you gave him your confidence, don't you?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, then?"

"But what, what--how, how--ugh, ugh!"

"Why, didn't he tell you?"

"No."

"What! Didn't he tell you that it was a secret, a mystery?"

"Oh--yes."

"Well, then?"

"But I have no bond."

"Don't need any with Mr. Truman. Mr. Truman's word is his bond."

"But how am I to get my profits--ugh, ugh!--and my money back? Don't
know anything. Ugh, ugh!"

"Oh, you must have confidence."

"Don't say that word again. Makes my head spin so. Oh, I'm so old and
miserable, nobody caring for me, everybody fleecing me, and my head
spins so--ugh, ugh!--and this cough racks me so. I say again, I ought to
have a guard_ee_an."

"So you ought; and Mr. Truman is your guardian to the extent you
invested with him. Sorry we missed him just now. But you'll hear from
him. All right. It's imprudent, though, to expose yourself this way. Let
me take you to your berth."

Forlornly enough the old miser moved slowly away with him. But, while
descending a stairway, he was seized with such coughing that he was fain
to pause.

"That is a very bad cough."

"Church-yard--ugh, ugh!--church-yard cough.--Ugh!"

"Have you tried anything for it?"

"Tired of trying. Nothing does me any good--ugh! ugh! Not even the
Mammoth Cave. Ugh! ugh! Denned there six months, but coughed so bad the
rest of the coughers--ugh! ugh!--black-balled me out. Ugh, ugh! Nothing
does me good."

"But have you tried the Omni-Balsamic Reinvigorator, sir?"

"That's what that Truman--ugh, ugh!--said I ought to take.
Yarb-medicine; you are that yarb-doctor, too?"

"The same. Suppose you try one of my boxes now. Trust me, from what I
know of Mr. Truman, he is not the gentleman to recommend, even in behalf
of a friend, anything of whose excellence he is not conscientiously
satisfied."

"Ugh!--how much?"

"Only two dollars a box."

"Two dollars? Why don't you say two millions? ugh, ugh! Two dollars,
that's two hundred cents; that's eight hundred farthings; that's two
thousand mills; and all for one little box of yarb-medicine. My head, my
head!--oh, I ought to have a guard_ee_an for; my head. Ugh, ugh, ugh,
ugh!"

"Well, if two dollars a box seems too much, take a dozen boxes at twenty
dollars; and that will be getting four boxes for nothing, and you need
use none but those four, the rest you can retail out at a premium, and
so cure your cough, and make money by it. Come, you had better do it.
Cash down. Can fill an order in a day or two. Here now," producing a
box; "pure herbs."

At that moment, seized with another spasm, the miser snatched each
interval to fix his half distrustful, half hopeful eye upon the
medicine, held alluringly up. "Sure--ugh! Sure it's all nat'ral? Nothing
but yarbs? If I only thought it was a purely nat'ral medicine now--all
yarbs--ugh, ugh!--oh this cough, this cough--ugh, ugh!--shatters my
whole body. Ugh, ugh, ugh!"

"For heaven's sake try my medicine, if but a single box. That it is pure
nature you may be confident, Refer you to Mr. Truman."

"Don't know his number--ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh! Oh this cough. He did speak
well of this medicine though; said solemnly it would cure me--ugh, ugh,
ugh, ugh!--take off a dollar and I'll have a box."

"Can't sir, can't."

"Say a dollar-and-half. Ugh!"

"Can't. Am pledged to the one-price system, only honorable one."

"Take off a shilling--ugh, ugh!"

"Can't."

"Ugh, ugh, ugh--I'll take it.--There."

Grudgingly he handed eight silver coins, but while still in his hand,
his cough took him and they were shaken upon the deck.

One by one, the herb-doctor picked them up, and, examining them, said:
"These are not quarters, these are pistareens; and clipped, and sweated,
at that."

"Oh don't be so miserly--ugh, ugh!--better a beast than a miser--ugh,
ugh!"

"Well, let it go. Anything rather than the idea of your not being cured
of such a cough. And I hope, for the credit of humanity, you have not
made it appear worse than it is, merely with a view to working upon the
weak point of my pity, and so getting my medicine the cheaper. Now,
mind, don't take it till night. Just before retiring is the time. There,
you can get along now, can't you? I would attend you further, but I land
presently, and must go hunt up my luggage."

 The herb-doctor runs into the coughing miser who gave Tassel the $100. The miser is in a panic looking for Tassel. When the miser sees the herb-doctor, he realizes this is the guy Tassel had mentioned. The miser verifies his identity, and the herb-doctor is delighted to help search for Tassel--or John Thurman, as he calls him. Another name. Woot. The herb-doctor walks the miser around and around on the boat until catching sight of Thurman. The miser doesn't see him, but he follows close behind the herb-doctor as he calls for him. According to the herb-doctor's singular perspective, we get this: Oh, no, the boat is docking. Oh, no, Thurman is getting off the ship. Oh, no, the ship is heading back out again. Too bad, so sad. The herb-doctor tells the miser he wishes they could have caught Thurman so that the miser could invest. The miser repeats that he already has invested but needs a receipt. The herb-doctor is thrilled and says pish-posh to receipts--Thurman's got your back. The herb-doctor leads the miser back to his room, and they discuss the miser's cough. The miser buys a box of herbs, but he tries to cheat the herb-doctor by giving him Spanish coins of low value. The herb-doctor accepts the coins but tells the miser he hopes he isn't faking a cough to get discounted medicine. Anyway, the herb-doctor has to go now, because he's getting off the ship that night.

