Presently the steward appeared.
“Say,” began the millionaire who had summoned him, “how much of this gin you got? Enough to carry you through to May first?” May 1st, 1917, was the date on which the state of Michigan became an arid waste.
“I’ll have a surplus, sir.”
“How much?”
The steward told him.
“Um!... What would that come to?”
The steward figured a moment. “About seven thousand dollars, sir.”
“I’ll take it. Have it delivered—”
“Whoa there!” interrupted his companion. “You’ll take half of it. I want the other half myself.”
“Nothing doing. There ain’t enough to split.... But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll flop the dice with you for it. Winner gets the gin, loser gets the bill.”