No one wanted a drink—nobody moved. More miracles was what they wanted. “What? No drinks?” says Stranger. “Prohibition landslide in Terrapin? Can I believe my ears—or my nose? Well, then, I will pursue my hellish purpose. I appeal to the calm judgment of this crowd, if they ever heard of an election without repeaters?” But he doesn’t let his gaze wander to the crowd none whatever. He never taken both eyes off Frenchy to oncet, since the limit had been pulled on him.
He decorated the board just as it was the last time, and looks on with pleased expectancy while the ball spins. I hope I may be saved it it didn’t come a repeater!
Stranger yawns as he pulls in thirteen hundred and twenty dollars. “Thanking you for your kind attention,” he states, “the entertainment is now concluded. Will some one trust me for a sack?”
“Feet cold?” sneers Frenchy.
“Oh no, I’m quite comfortable. But I might lose if I kept on,” Stranger explains. “Those numbers may not come again for ever so long. This is a piking game, anyhow. I like to bet my money in large chunks.”
“You seem to be a sort of a Democrat,” suggests Frenchy. “Why not back up your views? Here’s seven thousand says McKinley’s elected.”
“Why, that’s my game,” says Stranger, beaming. “That’s just what I wanted. Bryan’s going to sweep the country from Dan to Milwaukee.”
I gives him the nudge, for I sees our pile a-glimmering. I don’t mind betting on cards or horses and such, but politics is tricky. But he prattles on, plumb carried away by the courage of his convictions.
Frenchy’s nose dented. Why, I learned later, but I’ll tell you now. Terrapin was sixty miles from a telegraph office and all right-minded citizens was here present. But this sure-thing sport, knowing we was all for Bryan, had posted a relay on the North trail to bring him news. It was now way past midnight. He had known McKinley was in since about the time I was staking Stranger, and poor, innocent, confiding Stranger walks right into his trap.
“Even money?” asks Frenchy.