“Oh, yes, I will,” Mr. Loomis returned mockingly. “I will for ten dollars.”
“Not I,” said Old Bill. “Five is foolish enough.” And Smithie agreed with him. “Nor me!”
“All right, then. If you’re afraid of ten, I keep it. I thought the ten’d scare you.”
“Put that dollar on the table,” Collinson said. “I’ll put ten against it.”
There was a little commotion among these mild gamesters; and someone said, “You’re crazy, Collie. What do you want to do that for?”
“I don’t care,” said Collinson. “That dollar’s already cost me enough, and I’m going after it.”
“Well, you see, I want it, too,” Charlie Loomis retorted cheerfully; and he appealed to the others. “I’m not askin’ him to put up ten against it, am I?”
“Maybe not,” Old Bill assented. “But how long is this thing goin’ to keep on? It’s already balled our game all up, and if we keep on foolin’ with these side bets, why, what’s the use?”
“My goodness!” the host exclaimed. “I’m not pushin’ this thing, am I? I don’t want to risk my good old luck piece, do I? It’s Collie that’s crazy to go on, ain’t it?” He laughed. “He hasn’t showed his money yet, though, I notice, and this ole shack is run on strickly cash principles. I don’t believe he’s got ten dollars more on him!”
“Oh, yes, I have.”