“You're a fool as usual, Ozzie B.,” he said, shaking his brother. “Can't you see that Italian knows what he's about? If he'd risk that twenty, much as he loves money, he'd risk his soul. Venture pee-wee under the bridge—bam—bam—bam!”
Ozzie B. grew quieter. Somehow, what Archie B. said always made things look differently. Then Archie B. came up and whispered in his ear: “I'm fur the monkey—the Lord is on his side.”
Ozzie B. thought this was grand.
Then Archie B. hunted for his Barlow pocket knife. Around his neck, tied with a string, was a small greasy, dirty bag, containing a piece of gum asafœtida and a ten-dollar gold piece. The asafœtida was worn to keep off contagious diseases, and the gold piece, which represented all his earthly possessions, had been given him by his grandmother the year she died.
Archie B. was always ready to “swap sight under seen.” He played marbles for keeps, checkers for apples, ran foot-races for stakes, and even learned his Sunday School lessons for prizes.
The Italian still stood, smiling, when a small red-headed boy came up and touched him on the arm. He put a ten-dollar gold piece into the Italian's hand.
“Put this in for me, mister—an' make 'em put up a hundred mo'. I want some of that lucre.”
The Italian was touched. He patted Archie B.'s head:
“Breens,” he said, “breens uppa da.”
Again he shook the gold in the face of Jud and Bill.