The Wildcat gathered in his winnings. He laid a twenty-dollar bill on the green table. "Fade me is you frantic."
Honey Tone covered the bet.
"Gallopers, pay de rent. Wham! Morning, rainbow. Wah just begun. Dove ob Peace got one hot end, like a hornet. Gallopers, see kin yo' uplift de Honey Tone Jack."
The dice raced on their victorious way.
Twenty minutes later Honey Tone Boone picked up the cubes. The capital in his leather pocket book had dwindled to a pair of weak-looking dollar bills. He reached into his pocket, and his hand came forth clutching a rubber-banded cylinder of currency whose external unit was a yellow obligation wherein the United States Government promised to pay the bearer fifty dollars in gold coin, providing the Democrats overlooked that much.
Honey Tone voiced his challenge.
"Shoots a hund'ed dollahs. De big coin keeps de pikers out."
The Wildcat batted his eyes, but rallied nobly and covered Honey Tone's bet with five twenties. "Roll 'em," he said huskily.
Honey Tone, rolling 'em, neglected to advertise the fact that when he reached for his new stake he had switched the dice.
"Seven. Shoots two hund'ed."