can not be justified, of course. It is set forth here as a part of
the history of the place and the time.

I am not equipped to write the history of the celebrated Gowdy Case,
which grew out of these obscure circumstances in the lives of a group of
pioneers in an Iowa township. Probably the writers of history will never
set it down. Yet, it swayed the destiny of the county and the state in
after years, when Gowdy had died and left his millions to be fought over
in courts, in caucuses, in conventions, state and county. If it does not
go into the histories, the histories will not tell the truth. If great
law firms, governors, judges, congressmen and senators, lobbyists and
manipulators, are not judged in the light of the secret as well as the
surface influence of the Gowdy Case, they will not be rightly judged.

The same thing is true of the influence of the loss of the county funds
by Judge Stone. Who was guilty? Was the plan to have the bag of
"treasure" stolen from us by the Bunker gang a part of the scheme of
whoever took the money? Did the Bushyagers know about the satchel? Did
they know it was full of salt instead of money? Of course not, if they
were in the thing.

Did some one mean to fix it so the Bunkers would rob us of the satchel
and thus let everybody off? And if so, what about me? I should have had
to fight for the money, for that was what I was hired for. Was I to be
killed to save Judge Stone, or Governor Wade, and if so, which?

My part in the affair was never much spoken of in the hot newspaper and
stump-speech quarrels over the matter; but after a while, when I had had
time to figure it all out, I began to think I had not been treated quite
right; but what was I anyhow? This was another thing that made me sore
at all the Monterey Centre crowd, including the elder and grandma, with
their truckling to Gowdy and Wade and Stone and the rest who helped the
elder build his church. I suppose that the stolen money, some of it,
went to pay for that church; but if every church had remained unbuilt
that has stolen money in it, there would be fewer temples pointing, as
the old song says, with taper spire to heaven, wouldn't there?

Of course these scandalous matters were soon lost sight of in the
excitement of the Civil War. This thing which changed all our lives the
way war does, came upon me like a clap of thunder. I was living like a
hermit, and working like a horse, not trying to make any splurge, as I
migh