“Bet number one.” He reads the specifications. “Bryan loses. Any objections?”
Stranger shakes his head sorrowful, and pushes over the two-thousand-dollar packet.
“Bet number two.” Brown breaks the list of thirty-six states. “For Bryan,” he reads: “Connecticut, New York, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Minnesota—” His feelings overcome him and he laughs till the tears roll down his face. Frenchy leers, and the lookout rocks himself back and forward. And to cap it off comes a knock, and barkeep comes in with the sack Stranger ordered.
They howled. “I’ll give you ten for your sack,” gasps Frenchy.
“You needn’t rub it in,” says Stranger, injured. “I certain was mistook in them estimates. Pass on to the next.”
“Third bet,” wheezes Brown. He wipes his cheeks and tears open the list of four states. “Bryan will carry—” he begins. He turns pale, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his eyes bugged out so you could hang your hat on ’em.
“Texas!” he screeches. “Arkansas, Georgia, South Carolina!”
“Then I made a good bet!” observes Stranger, popping the rest of the money into the sack.
“What!” yells Frenchy. “You were to name four additional states—forty in all!”
“Oh, no. Four others. These four were not in my list of thirty-six. You lost and I’ve got the mon. Why didn’t you inquire? You orter understand a game before you play it. This is my game, and my rules go. See?”