Abe took from his pocket a skin purse, tightly bound with a long thong, unwound this, emptied out into his yellow hand, which shook with excitement, two bright sovereigns.
“That ain’t any wild cat tail money,” he said; “it’s the saving of sixty years’ hard work—and I stake that.”
“What’s the wager?” asked the chairman.
“That my ole goat proves to this yer club that Nature provides a way outside of pizening by holding his own ag’inst anything on two feet or four feet, ’cept a elephant or a steam roller.”
“The club takes the bet,” said the chairman, in a solemn voice and a winking eye.
“Well; jes’ take keer o’ that money until your nex’ meeting, when I’ll turn up with the ole Kapater. So long!”
“You’ll lose that money, Abe,” I said following him as he slouched away.
“It’s a heap of money,” he said; “a glittering pile that I been saving up for my ole age.”
“Call the bet off, Abe.”
“You think the ole man’s a blasteratious ijiot, sonny? Well, well! maybe. Let him stand at that till nex’ meeting.”