Then they stopped at the "envelope game," where were spread on a stand a large collection of cheap, gaudy goods, each bearing a printed number, every one supposed to correspond with those contained in a box of envelopes, and this fakir was doing a big business, as was shown by the fact that he could afford to hire a barker, who cried continually at the full strength of his lungs:
"Come up now, and try your luck! Here's where we have all prizes and no blanks! Ten cents buys an envelope, with the privilege of drawing for yourself, so there can be no job put up against you, and every number calls for some one of the many valuable articles in the layout. Here's a gentleman who spends only ten cents and gets a pair of those beautiful, triple-plated, double-expansion, fine pure metal cuff buttons, worth two dollars at some stores!"
"Come on!" Dan said, impatiently. "That fellow is almost as big a snide as Hazelton."
"How do you make that out? I can see a lot of things that cost more than a dollar. Look at the silver watch, and the revolver."
"That may be all very well; but no one except a fellow who is interested in the business gets any of those articles."
"You can select any envelope you choose."
"That's right; but the ones with the numbers calling for the big prizes are lying flat in the box where nobody can get them. If you should accuse the man of cheating he would turn the whole thing upside down, and then, of course, they could be found. Here comes a fellow who I know is cappin' for that fakir. Watch how he does it."
The apparent stranger approached the stand, and after some talk as to how the game was run, invested ten cents.
The man did not open the envelope he drew; but handed it to the fakir, who, pretending to look at the card it contained, shouted:
"Number fifty-four. The gentleman has drawn that beautiful solid silver watch worth fifty dollars, and I will give him thirty for his bargain."