Narrator (0:12)

The mailbox cleaner and taller than the others, said Dorset. The biblical punishment. The rocks in the hands of the wrathful chipped away at the white paint of the fence while the kitten clung to the apex, flinching with each knock. The animal's terror was apparently enough to keep the fence interesting on a warm Alabama evening when nothing more than getting cool and staying cool was of any interest to anyone else on the street. If the people were home, they weren't out front. The boy was alone. Alone except for Bill and Sam. Bill Driscoll's horse added to the haze as it clopped up next to the Dorset mailbox. Hello there, young man, bill said. The kid didn't look up. Another rock hit the fence. Kid, we're looking for Summit, sam called out. You're in Summit, the boy said, this time turning, his eyes darting back, and another rock bounced before the kitten could jump. No, the mountain. The little mountain. Summit, bill clarified. The boy pointed up the road and past town. A mountain grew. Well, mountain. It was a middling hill, but for a land as flat and swampy as the town, it might as well have been a mountain. Ah, there it is. Thanks, kid. Bill smiled, but the buggy didn't move. Hey, as a thanks for helping us out, do you like candy? Bill asked, still flashing his mostly toothy grin. He almost lost one of those teeth when the boy launched a rock at his face. Bill yelped and gripped his eye. Go get him. That little that's gonna cost his dad another 500. The buggy creaked as Sam thudded to the street. He bit me. Sam limped back to the passenger seat. Hurry. Bill hissed. The pounding from the trunk ricocheted down the empty street across closed shutters and doors. When Sam was aboard, Bill whipped the horse, and the haze grew again, this time faster, as Bill, Sam, and the child in their trunk disappeared around the next corner. When the street was still again, the kitten leapt from the fence, landing next to the pile of rocks and padding off into the grass. From Jason and Carissa Weiser, the creators of myths and legends, this is fiction. Summit was perfect. Not perfect for the real estate con they had been planning for months. No, it was way too small for that. It was perfect to get the seed money for the real estate job in Illinois. It was small, so small that for the crime in question, it was out of the orbit of any of the local newspapers that could run a story or print a sketch. There would only be one or two officers who were closer to death than the beginnings of their careers. When they might have learned how to deal with something like this, and the bloodhound that could follow them would get winded halfway to the mountain. The town was small enough to not be a problem, but it was big enough to have Ebenezer Dorset. Where there were houses and farms, there were mortgages, and where there were mortgages, there was someone to foreclose on them. And that someone was Ebenezer Dorset, the richest man in town in Nowhere Alabama. Bill and Sam had laughed earlier that day. He might as well be the best fed man on the deserted island, eating the others to sustain himself with everyone trapped there. Regardless, money was money, and he would easily net them the last two grand they needed for the real estate job in Illinois. It was work, though the logistics of it were annoying. First they had to scout out the cave on the far side of the mountain, get provisions, rent a buggy, kidnap the kid, take the kid back to the mountain, take the buggy back to town, and then walk back to the mountain. The kid had been easy enough to corral once they had him sufficiently bound. Everything short of a wild animal understands a gun barrel to their forehead. And while the kid was almost there, he emerged from the trunk with only a glare. The second time he made the three mile walk today, Sam saw the fire glowing among the cedars well after dark. Bill had coffee on and he had offered to take the first watch. Halt. Who goes there? The boy called out. He was wearing a headband and stuck feathers in the back. Sam looked at the kid and then looked at Bill. Seriously, bill said the kid wanted to play and it was easier this way. Just play along. You dare to enter the camp of Red Chief, Terror of the plains? The kid bellowed. Really? Sam said. Red Chief? Bill furrowed his brow, then gasped. Oh yeah. I thought he was referring to the feathers, bill said. Probably not though, right? Sam said. Bill wasn't down with the caricature or the appropriation or the myriad of problematic things going on here. He also was tired and it kept the kid from biting you. Do not speak to the spy, Snake eye. He is to be scalped at daybreak. Red Chief has spoken, the kid said. I'm not saying that. Sam shook his head. Also, please chill out with all that. It's actually really bad. I think it's because he has red hair, bill pointed out. Sam looked at the kid. Yeah, maybe it's still uncomfortably close. I'm hungry, the kid declared. Bill went outside and cut the provisions down from the tree while Sam stoked the fire. I like this real fine. I like camping. I had A pet possum once, though he ran away last birthday when I was nine and started third grade. I don't like school. You don't really learn anything there. Jimmy Talbot's aunt. A schoolteacher, and that didn't stop rats from eating up all the speckled hen's eggs. Our dog had puppies, but no one wanted them so Ma had to drown the little ones. Why can't dogs talk but parrots can, but a monkey can't? They're like mutants or something. Amos Murray is a mutant. He has six toes on his left foot. Ed Walker laughed at him, but I whipped Ed Walker. And the girls laughed, but I don't like girls, so I whipped them too. Are stars hot? This went on while Sam tore up the bread and cooked the bacon and gravy. He thought that food and words couldn't coexist in the same mouth, but the kid found a way, flinging bits of moist bread around the cave with every inane statement. You like home, kid? Sam cut him some more bacon. Would you like to go home? The kid shook his head. No way. He hated home. It was so boring and he hated school. Snake eye. You will not take me back to school. Bill laughed. Not yet, that's for sure. Not until they hear from dad. Good, the kid agreed. I've never had such fun in my life. After dinner, around 11, Sam laid out the blankets. The kid would sleep between them. They didn't see any use in binding him. They were miles out in the wilderness at night and he seemed content enough to stay put. They could keep playing their very culturally insensitive game and he could keep pretending this was a camping trip, at least until Daddy paid up. Now it was time to get some sleep. If Sam thought he or Bill or any of them were getting sleep, then he had obviously never taken a nine year old camping. The kid laid there staring at the darkness at the top of the cave for one, maybe two minutes before he gripped his stick and sat up. Raiders. Sam palmed the kid's chest and pushed him back down. No sleep he didn't. Not until around 3 or 3:30. And even then Sam only fell into a fitful twilight sleep. There he dreamed he was being held hostage by a pirate, one with red hair. The pirate leveled a gun at the man in irons on the sand. The man cried, wept, sobbed, told the pirate to get off of him, to stop. Sam cocked his head on the sun soaked beach. That didn't make sense. And then he was in darkness again, competing with the bustling forest at night Bill, half asleep himself, was crying. The kid was on top of him, gripping the knife they used for bacon, holding his hair up and slicing at his forehead, trying to take his scalp with emotion. Sam lifted the kid off Bill amid shouts that Sam was standing in the way of justice for Snake Eye. Sam wrenched the knife from the kid and gave Bill a shove with his foot. Despair turned to panic as Bill sat up and felt his blood soaked pillow. What was going on? No one slept much after that. Sam got up early. He had a pain in his shoulder that the cave floor wasn't doing any favors. Definitely wasn't because the kid had promised to burn him alive at sunrise and he couldn't be sure that the kid would not do that. Sam climbed to the top of Summit and waited for the first light in the east. He expected the halcyon Alabama countryside to have a posse snaking through the tall grasses like the even more virulent weeds seeking the lambkin that had been plucked from their fold. But the morning was as peaceful as ever. The town took its waking slow. Sam furrowed his brow. Okay, that was a bit odd, he thought for sure. A man as rich as Ebenezer Dorset would be able to drum up a band to find his kid with the town's one or two volunteer constables leading the charge. This was good. This was okay. By the time word made it to any of the other towns and help could come, the boy would be back home, his father having already paid the ransom. The thing about ransoms, though, they really only worked when one party was afraid, and they could only be afraid if they were aware. Then the scream. Sam smiled, but then realized that the scream didn't come from town. It came from further down the hill from camp. From Bill. You strike the chief again and he'll decorate that wall with your brains. The kid held up a rock the size of a coconut. Sam snatched the rock from the kid and turned to Bill. What happened? Bill, shaking and pointing at the kid, said, the little monster started it. He handed the kid a boiled potato and then leaned over the pot to get his out and the kid dropped the potato down the back of his shirt and grounded him with a kick. Bill boxed the kid's ears and the kid picked up a rock. Sam had to stifle a laugh when Bill lifted up his shirt and showed Sam the. Yeah, horrific burn. That and the flap of skin that wouldn't quite stay put on his forehead, revealing just a sliver of the man's skull with a wave. And yeah, Bill was having a morning. He's a monster. We should just take him down to the river and shoot him. Do the world a favor, bill said. The chief's face hardened into a sneer. He's spoiled. Sam restuck the bandage to Bill's forehead. How did Bill think he got like that? He's an only child. His parents dote on him like a little princeling, but their loss is our gain. They'll pay anything to get him back. Bill would see they were more than happy to let the kid take a couple straps of leather and play outside. So the town's a hive of bees? Bill asked, munching on his lukewarm potato. Sam shook his head. Not yet. The kid wasn't much of a homebody. Parents probably thought he was staying with his aunt or friend or something. They miss him today, though, and if Bill and Sam wanted to make their appointments in Illinois, they would need to get this moving. He would get word to the father tonight. Bill put another potato on when he heard the shout, something about Goliath. Sam didn't catch it, but Bill. While Bill caught a stone behind his left ear, he went slack and dropped. He dropped face first into the fire. If you're gonna fall face first into fire, would not recommend it, by the way, but if you have to, it's probably better to be unconscious. Sam was able to rush to Bill's aid and pull him from the coals with only minor horrific burns on his cheeks and forehead. Bill dragged the body behind a rocky outcropping to avoid the budding King David outside, and spent the next 30 minutes scooping water onto his brother's face, slapping it every now and then, trying to get Bill to wake up. He was breathing, so he wasn't dead. That much Sam knew. And Sam must have accidentally poured some water in his mouth and nose because Bill sputtered to consciousness. What? What happened? Where was he? Sam explained everything. Bill winced when he touched the burns on his face. Did Sam know what his favorite story from the Bible was? Sam didn't quite see where this was going. Okay, he'll bite. What was his brother's favorite story? King Herod, bill hissed. Oh, because King Herod killed children. Yeah, I got it, sam said and extended a hand so he could help build to his feet. Two more stones slapped and tore the leaves as Sam found the boy in the forest. He grabbed the boy by his shirt and shook him. What? I was only funnin, the kid said, but even he could read the room. Enough. I'll behave. Just let me play scout today. I don't care Sam tossed the kid hard to the ground. He didn't seem to notice all that much. I'll let Mr. Bill decide. I need to leave on business. Come on. He waved and the kid followed. Say you're sorry for hurting him. Sam gestured to Bill. When they made it back to the cave, the boy was silent. Say it or I'm sending you home right now. Sam shouted. The kid groaned and relented. He was sorry. He and Bill shook hands. This was ridiculous. Were they both children? Sam, you won't leave me with him for too long, will you? Bill said as the kid ate his potato just out of earshot. Sam explained that he was getting an early letter out to Dorset about his kid. Before that, though, he was going to Poplar Cove. It wasn't more than three miles away. There should be some word there about the kidnapping. That way they could get a lay of the land. We'll see what's going on in town, but that will be right after this this episode is brought to you by Progressive Insurance. Do you ever think about switching insurance companies to see if you could save some cash? Progressive makes it easy to see if you could save when you bundle your home and auto policies. Try it@progressive.com Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates potential savings will vary. Not available in all states. Let's map out this week's amazing destinations and travel tips. Honestly, Will, I didn't plan any trips, but I did switch to T Mobile with their new Family Freedom offer. That's not the itinerary we're following. Well, I'm departing from AT&T and embarking on a new journey with T Mobile. They paid off my family's four phones up to $3200 and gave us four new phones on the house. Bon voyage. Introducing Family Freedom Our lowest cost will switch our biggest family savings all on America's largest 5G network. Visit your local T Mobile location or learn more@t mobile.com FamilyFreedom up to $800 per line via virtual prepaid card typically takes 15 days. Free phones via 24 monthly bill credits with finance agreement eg Apple iPhone 16128 gigabyte $829.99 elig eg iPhone 11 Pro for well qualified credits end and balance due if you pay off early or cancel contact T Mobile. They got to work on the letter, but Sam could tell Bill was holding back. He sighed. What was it, 2000 for him? Did Sam have any idea what that amount of money would be equivalent to in 2025? Almost 62 grand he's rich and it's his kid. He'll pay, sam said, but Bill shook his head. 1,500. They wanted to wrap this up so they could go north, right? 1500 was still good. Sam could charge the rest to him after the Illinois job. Bill had spent enough time around this kid to know even 1500 was a big ask. But it was a more reasonable one for £40 of freckled wildcat. Sam agreed. Sure. He finished up the ransom note. It was boilerplate as far as a ransom note can be boilerplate. We have your son, blah blah blah. Don't involve the police, yada yada yada. They told of the trees where the solitary messenger could leave the Dorset response as in the money. The kid would be returned to Dorset within three hours if he paid. The terms were final and non negotiable. If Dorsett failed to reply or comply, he would never see his child again. No further communication would be attempted. Two desperate men. I don't know. Desperate. Bill furrowed his brow. What? We have to let them know we'll do anything. Sam licked the envelope. Yeah, but like, what are we projecting into the world? You know, you kind of become your own self talk. What about two men who have stuff going on? Of course they mean business, but their lives are going according to their plans and dreams insofar as anyone's can. Bill's self satisfied smile faded when Sam sealed the envelope. Watch the kid. Sam rose. He made to leave, but the kid stood in the doorway. Move. You told me I could play scout. The kid did not move. Okay, so play scout. I don't care. Sam brushed him aside. Bill, play scout with him. Sam called back, and as he descended the hill he heard Bill playing scout, being the horse so that the chief could ride all around and digging his heels into Bill's side. An hour later, Sam was ascending the mountain again. It was a profitable trip. Well, it would be profitable. He went to Poplar Cove, dropped his letter at the post office, and then stood around talking to the store owner and the patrons while he got his pipe tobacco. There was an uproar in Summit. Ebenezer Dorset's boy had been taken, snatched right from his own front yard. The town was a beehive of disbelief and terror. Sam had managed to hide his smile before nodding at the men and heading back out to the mountain. He found Bill there. Only Bill at peace. Sam walked past Bill and into the cave. Where? Where is he? Where's the kid? I let him go, Sam, bill said. Sam's eyes nearly popped from his head. What? Let him go. We can find another. I'm sorry, but no saint has ever had to endure what I did with this kid. I've been burned, concussed, burned again, cut and I have bruises and cuts down my leg from the kid kicking them. The kid rode on my back for a mile and then tried to force feed me sand, screaming at me to eat my oats. Eat them. Sam tried to stifle a laugh and then looked out to the forest. When Bill finally managed to get the kid off his back and said they needed to get back to the cave, the kid bit him. Bill told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to go back to Summit. They didn't want to see him again, ever. It took a kick to get the kid eight feet closer to home than he was, but he finally listened. The last Bill saw of him, he was walking down the road toward home. Now he knew Sam would be mad. He knew that they had put so much work into picking this kid out in town scouting for nearly a fortnight. But I'm not mad. Sam walked forward, putting his hand on Bill's shoulder. You've been through a lot. I would imagine you have a good deal of peace about this. Am I right? Bill said. His brother had no idea. The little demon had really chosen him, it seemed, and with him gone, he had a completely renewed perspective on life. He would be able to wake up and appreciate that there wasn't a vengeful little homunculus trying to shove a boiled potato down his back and saw at his scalp. Sam nodded. Good things. All good things. Hey. He was right in remembering that there wasn't a history of heart conditions in their family. Bill thought about it. Yeah, the alcoholism really got most of them before anything else had a chance. Tuberculosis and accidents, too. Good, good, great, sam said and gripping Bill's shoulder, turned him around until he was facing the opening of the cave. One look at the kid standing in the mouth of the cave and Bill was on the ground, gripping his knees, rocking back and forth, convinced that this kid wouldn't run. Sam told him to go play or something. He knelt down to Bill, still staring off into nowhere. One thing, just one more thing. Sundown tonight. Dorsett would deliver the ransom and they could take the kid home immediately. He just had to leave Bill with the kid again, one more time. Sam left Bill to his soft weeping content that the kid couldn't hurt him too much. He had a plan for getting the money. Even if people were watching the tree. He would hide himself in the tree, slinking down to grab the money out of the hole and plane it back up. That way, if the police were watching the roads and fields, they would never see him. As it turned out, he didn't need to worry. Dorset hadn't involved the police, hadn't involved anyone beyond a pre teen who biked up, put a very light envelope into the tree, and biked away. Sam waited a whole hour to make sure no one was watching the road, but by the time he felt safe enough to try and read the message inside the envelope, it was too dark to do so. He made for Summit. What? Sam read. Bill was still on the ground. The kid had thrown rocks at him until his arm got tired and wandered off. Bill looked up. What is it? Sam shoved the letter in his face. Bill read, Dear two desperate men, I received your letter regarding the ransom of my son and I believe your demands to be a little high. Here is my counter proposition. Pay me $250 in cash and I will agree to take him off your hands. Seeing as you have spent nearly 24 hours with my son, I'm inclined to believe you'll find this offer more than fair. Very respectfully, Ebenezer Dorset. Sam threw the letter into the fire. Could Bill believe the nerve of this Dorset guy? Bill shook his head. No. That was an amazing deal. Sam looked at Bill. What? What? We have the money. He's practically a spendthrift for letting us get away for so little. I mean, $250. Come on. Bill stood up. What about the Illinois job? Sam creaked. This will put them back months. What about our sanity? What about traumatic brain injury? What about not being set on fire? Bill gripped Sam's lapels. They couldn't survive another night with this kid. He couldn't survive another night with his kid. Sam sat back with a sigh. There was an obvious solution to this problem, but. Well, they were bad men, Criminals. But they weren't. They had limits, lines they wouldn't cross. Neither of them had seriously entertained that option. So they could either try to ditch the kid in the woods, he would probably find his way home. He also knew the area pretty well and would clearly much rather run with the outlaws playing pretend. They might wake up to him scalping or scalding them. Or worse. Yes, okay, we'll take him back. We'll pay the ransom on our own kidnapping victim and just be done with this. Hey, kid, sam called out. The chief looked up. Yep, Your dad wrote us back. We have a surprise for you. He wants you back so much that he's gonna pay the Ransom, Sam said. I ain't goin. The chief spat. Yeah, he said you'd say that. So we got you something special. A silver mounted rifle and some moccasins. For real? The chief gasped. Yeah, for real. Hey, can you read? He asked. The chief shook his head. Nope, not yet. Sam passed him the letter. Well, it was all right there. They should get going. They only had until sundown to get him back or else there was no deal for them and no rifle for the boy, who should under no circumstances possess a gun, no matter the time period, appropriateness of such a gift. So they broke camp and started the climb down the mountain. The sun was touching the horizon when the three of them crossed into Summit and had just set. When they were standing in the exact same spot as a couple days before, they found the mother and father looking refreshed, waiting outside the fence. You can check him. He's unharmed, sam said as he approached Ebenezer Dorset. Ebenezer didn't check the kid. He smiled. He and his wife were hoping for a few more hours. They really returned him as early as possible, didn't they? Sam shook his head and brought out his cash, counting out each bill as Bill watched Johnny the boy with growing alarm. What gun? The mother said as Johnny pushed back from her embrace. Moccasins. What was he talking about? $2.50, Sam said as Ebenezer finished counting the money with a nod. No. No. Bill cried out, and as Sam turned to hiss that they needed to be quiet, he saw the kid, the chief, leap and cling to Bill's leg. Bill wept and kicked, but it didn't seem to do anything. The boy screeched that they had lied. They lied. They were just trying to get rid of him, trying to send him home. Bill tried to hobble, crying for Sam to get him off. Please get him off. This is his nightmare. And while Sam did briefly consider snatching the money bag from Dorset and running, he wouldn't do that to his brother. Dorset, though, had other plans. He made good on his part of the bargain and shoving the cash in his waistcoat, he leapt at his boy, wrenching the biting scratching, clinging mass from the kidnapper's leg and pinning him to the ground. Bill caught his breath and wiped his tears and Ebenezer, over the strain it took to keep his own son down, told them to go. He wasn't as strong as he used to be. They had 10 minutes tops. That's all their $250 would buy them. Sam said that that was enough. Bill and Sam took off Bill fell behind at one point, but then a buggy approached, Bill whipping the horses beside a running Sam, telling him to get in. He stole a buggy. They had to get as far away from this town as possible, and they were halfway to Canada come dawn. This one was just kind of funny. And alongside the Gift of the Magi is probably O. Henry's most famous story. It is potentially dark. I mean, it opens with a child kidnapping, but while the kidnappers are bad, they are pretty much always in more danger than their victims. And the turn at the end, and this is an O. Henry story, so there's always a turn is legitimately funny. We'll wrap up today with another short O. Henry story, but this one takes place in New York City on a rainy autumn night. It's alright, officer, the man said reassuringly. I'm just waiting for a friend. It's an appointment made 20 years ago. The policeman and the stranger were the only two people on this block. The rain had forced everyone else in early, and apparently they all decided to stay there. The officer smirked. Alright, that was a first. He had been walking this beat for years and no one had an appointment. 20 years in the making. Cigar hanging from the stranger's mouth, his collar flipped to block the wind that was tardy for its own appointment with the rain and lingered after the latter had stopped. He said, yeah. Pointed behind him, he said, this place used to be called Big Joe Brady's Restaurant. About five years ago, the policeman said. Joe retired and they tore it down. Joe moved to Florida. Jersey. The policeman grimaced. Hmm. The stranger shook his head. He glanced out, probably dry enough to light his cigar. You want to know more? The man asked. The cop shrugged. It was the man's business. If he wanted to wait and smoke his cigar in peace, the policeman wouldn't mess with him. If he was guilty, he would have run, and if he meant harm, he would have done harm already. The policeman shrugged, though he was interested. 20 years is a long time. It is, but he'll show, the man said, striking a match and puffing at the end. 20 years ago exactly on this night he sat at Big Joe's with Jimmy Wells. He was my best friend. I don't remember a time when I didn't know him. Jimmy, man. Yeah. You couldn't drag Jimmy out of New York, not for anything. It might as well be the only place on earth. Me, though. I offered him a chance to come with me. Where? The policeman took out a cigarette of his own and lit it. West. I was gonna make my fortune. I was 18 and he was 20. But he was just one of those people. You know, no matter where life took me, I would always wonder what happened to Jimmy. But I had to go. In New York, as big as it was, it got too small for me. I had some trouble. The man glanced at the police officer, suddenly aware of who he was spilling his life story to. The policeman looked at the man. You haven't been in the city for 20 years. I'm not looking for more work tonight. Just to walk my beat and not fall asleep or freeze, the policeman said. No worries. The stranger snickered and puffed his cigar. Well, okay. So he was going West. There was a lot of country out there and a man could be free from his past. He would be like the pioneers. The only sadness was leaving Jimmy behind. So they agreed. At the very least, they would meet up on this night 20 years in the future. In that time, who they were destined to be would be pretty much set. You haven't spoken since. The policeman scanned the street, which was as closed and as quiet as it ever was on a night like this one. Well, we sent letters for the first few years, but then life got in the way. I moved around a lot and had different things going on. Him too, I imagine. The different things, not the moving. I can't see him ever leaving New York. How do you know? He'll show. He will show. The man smiled. Jimmy was the staunchest, truest old chap in the world. I came a thousand miles, too. He can come like 10 blocks or wherever he lives now. The man dug in his pocket for the watch, the diamonds on the lids sparkling in the gaslights. Three minutes to 10. We parted at the door at 10. 20 years ago. He'll be here. I'll give him until 10:30, though. If he's alive, he'll be here by then. The policeman looked at the pocket watch in amazement. Wow. The man did well for himself out west, didn't he? You know it. I knew if I stayed, I'd get in a rut like everyone else who never crossed the Hudson. There was something about staying that dulled everyone. The west put a razor's edge on me. Well, good luck. I hope your friend shows. The policeman looked up and down the empty street. He should keep moving, though. Good night. Hey. Yeah, good night. Good talking to you. The stranger nodded and the policeman walked off, twirling his club, stopping every so often to try the doors to ensure they were locked up for the night. Bob, the big man in the overcoat, the collar turned up to his ears to block the fine drizzle, squinted with a smile. Jimmy. The cigar nearly fell out of the stranger's Bob's mouth as he looked on the man he hadn't seen in two decades, standing under the awning of the hardware store that used to be their favorite bar. Bless my heart, jimmy said, clasping Bob on the shoulder. 20 years and you came. I can't believe it. I wish old Joe was still here so we could have a drink. I know a place around the corner, though. How you doing, Bob? The stranger said. He couldn't complain. He had been out in California, though now he was in Chicago. Was Jimmy still in New York? Yeah, I got a good job with the city. Jimmy grinned, walking with his arm around Bob. Man, you got big, bob said, looking up at the man. Jimmy laughed. Yeah, 20 years will do that. You must have grown, what, five inches in his 20s? He guessed he was a late bloomer. How had the west treated Bob? Bully. Bob grinned. Which, if you aren't up on your turn of the 20th century, diction means good. It gave me everything I asked for and more, bob said, and he started detailing the last 18 or so years since he left New York. The pair turned another corner and found a pub with electric lights glowing in the haze. Bob looked up with a smile to his old friend and stepped away. 20 years is a long time. A lot of things can change, but it doesn't change the shape of a man's nose or his eye color. Who are you? Bob demanded, realizing that he had already been backed against a wall. I'm the man who's arresting you, Silky Bob. He gained control of Bob's left arm, then his right, and pinned him to the wall, cuffing him. You're wanted in Chicago and they thought you might be coming our way. They would like to have a chat. Where's Jimmy? What did you do with Jimmy? Bob demanded. The officer rooted through his pockets. Oh yeah, here you go. I was supposed to give you this. He held out a note in front of Bob's face. Bob, I was on time. 20 years later in front of old Joe Brady's place. I was so excited to see you. I've been looking forward to this for a year. But when you struck the match to light your cigar, I saw the face of my friend and the face of a man wanted in Chicago. I couldn't do it myself. I just couldn't. I found a plainclothes officer and he did it for me. Your friend, always Jimmy. I have some slight thoughts when it comes to this I did let it linger a little longer before Silky Joe lit a cigar. But in the original, Bob seemed to be withholding his identity even before he realized his friend was a criminal. I picked this one because I'm actually the age of Silky Joe and Bob. I would have had my 20 year high school reunion this year if anyone in my class, including me, had it together enough to schedule and plan a reunion. Anyway, me and the hundreds of people in my class in high school have diverged in surprising ways. Even people from college who are my best friends in the world, we can reconnect, but we're completely different people now. Even some people who have taken unsettling turns and you have to wonder, were they always like that and circumstances just align to bring that out of them? Or if things were different, could you still be friends? Today's episode was adapted from the stories the Ransom of Red Chief and After 20 Years by William Sidney Porter, aka O. Henry. And it was adapted by Jason and Carissa Weiser. Our theme song is by the Amazing Breakmaster Cylinder. In two weeks, we're back on the stories of Arcine Lupin, Gentleman Burglar, where we actually get an origin story for Lupin. Thank you so much for listening and we'll see you next time.