“I would shorely scorn to take such an advantage of you,” says Stranger. “I’ll give you a chance for your white alley. I will now proceed to divide my capital into five parts. The first part contains fifteen hundred dollars, which I bet you against five hundred dollars that Bryan is our next President. I will then bet you fifteen hundred even that Bryan carries thirty-six states, a list of which I will make out and seal. Third pile, two thousand dollars, gives you a chance to break even if you’re lucky. Give me odds of five to one and I bet this two thousand that Bryan carries four other states, names of which will also be deposited under seal with stake-holder. Pile number four, five hundred dollars, goes even that I made a good bet. Number five, one hundred and sixty-six dollars, goes in my pocket for tobacco and postage stamps and other luxuries.”
“You’re delirious. Your money’s a gift,” says Frenchy. “Make out your agreements. It’ll take more’n I got to cover that five to one bet, but I can borrow the Northern Pacific on that proposition.” He takes Brown off for a confidential and comes back with the money by the time Stranger had the bet in writing and signed.
Frenchy reads it aloud. “You are all witnesses,” he says, and slaps his fist to it. “Name your stake-holder.”
“Put it in Mr. Brown’s safe—money, agreement and my two lists of states. Decide to-morrow at five P. M. when the stage comes in.”
They makes a bundle of it and locks it up. “And now,” says Stranger to me, “my presentiments points for bed.”
“Why couldn’t you quit when I wanted you to, you ijit?” I says. “You made the worst break I ever see.”
“You certainly surprise me. Haven’t I raised you to a position of opulence by my acumen and foresight? Your ingratitude grieves me to my heart’s core—and just when we stand to more than double our money, too.”
“Acumen! Foresight!” I jeers. “’Twas blind, bulldog, damn-fool luck. I furnished all the judgment used when I tried to stop you. I put up the money, and you had a right to harken to me.”
“You’re my partner,” says he calmly. “Half this money is yours, and all, if you need it. But I lost your money. This here is the proceeds of my iron dollar. By to-morrow night we’ll have eleven thousand, anyway, and here you’re complaining. I do hate a quitter.”
“And I hate a fool. You have a chance to win one bet, and that’s all.”