“Administration Republican!” said the burglar; “that's what I am. I believe in Imperialism and a sound currency.”
“I'm an Administration Republican, too,” remarked Bowlder. “I knew we'd find common ground at last. Now, as a member of the same party as yourself, I want to ask a favour of you. You've got about $1,500 worth of plunder there; and yet, you see yourself, there's a good deal of furniture you're leaving behind; piano upstairs and all that. I'll play you one game of ten-point seven-up to see whether you take all or nothing. Come, now, as a favour!”
The burglar hesitated. He feared there was a trap in it. Bowlder gave him his word as a goldbug that he made the proffer in all honesty.
“If you win,” said Bowlder, “you can cart the furniture away to-morrow. I'll order you a waggon as I go down, and you can sleep in the house and see that I don't carry off anything or hold out on you.”
“But it ain't worth as much as what I've got,” demurred the burglar.
“Well, see here!” said Bowlder—sober he was now—“to avoid spoiling sport I'll throw in my watch and $30. That's square!”
The burglar admitted that the proposal was fair, but stuck for seven points.
“I like straight seven-up,” he said. “Make it a seven-point game and I'll go you.”
Bowlder produced a deck of cards from the sewing-machine drawer. At the burglar's own suggestion they lighted one gas jet.
“Cut for deal!” said Bowlder.