“I was about to intimate that I'd take the money weighed out,” Smoke said.
The owner of the Elkhorn cashed their paper, and Shorty took possession of the gold-dust.
“Now, I don't want to wake up,” he chortled, as he hefted the various sacks. “Toted up, it's a seventy thousan' dream. It'd be too blamed expensive to open my eyes, roll out of the blankets, an' start breakfast.”
“What's your system?” Big Burke demanded. “We've paid for it, and we want it.”
Smoke led the way to the table. “Now, gentlemen, bear with me a moment. This isn't an ordinary system. It can scarcely be called legitimate, but its one great virtue is that it works. I've got my suspicious, but I'm not saying anything. You watch. Mr. Keeper, be ready with the ball. Wait. I am going to pick '26.' Consider I've bet on it. Be ready, Mr. Keeper—Now!”
The ball whirled around.
“You observe,” Smoke went on, “that '9' was directly opposite.”
The ball finished in “26.”
Big Burke swore deep in his chest, and all waited.
“For 'double naught' to win, '11' must be opposite. Try it yourself and see.”