"Well, I'll bet I can do it," repeated Cottle stubbornly. "If a man's willing to bet his money to back up a wild statement, that shows he's got the right kind of a heart anyway.
"I ought to be able to stick my left hand in my pocket and go out there and trim two men of your age. I ought to, and I'll be damned if I don't think I can!"
"Tut, tut!" warned the Ooley-cow. "That's foolishness."
"Think so?" Cottle dipped his hand into his pocket and brought out a thick roll of bills. "Well, this stuff here says I can do it—at least I can try—and I ain't afraid to back my judgment."
"Put your money away," said Perkins. "Don't be a fool!"
Cottle laughed uproariously and slapped the Ooley-cow on the back.
"Good old Wes!" he cried. "Ain't changed a bit. Conservative! Always conservative! Got rich at it, but me I got rich taking chances. What's a little wad of bills to me, hey? Nothing but chicken-feed! I'll bet any part of this roll—I'll bet all of it—and I'll play these sun-dried old sports with one hand. Now's the time to show whether they've got any sporting blood or not. What do you say, gentlemen?"
Uncle Billy looked at the money and moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.
"Couldn't think of it," he croaked at length.
"Pshaw!" sneered Cottle. "I showed you too much—I scared you!"