She returned to him the bill she had won from him the day before. “Ten thousand dollars suits me. Of course I haven't got the money just now, and this is what Billy calls a finger-bet, but if I lose, I guarantee to pay. Are we betting even money? I think that is scarcely fair. Under the circumstances I should be entitled to odds.”
“Nothing doing! No odds on a bet of this nature to a seeress who has already jarred me from soul to vermiform appendix by making good! You know too blamed much already, and how you discovered, it is a problem that may drive me crazy yet.”
After breakfast they repaired to the veranda to await the result of Webster's experiment with Don Juan Cafetéro. Sure enough, the wreck had again returned; he was seated on the edge of the veranda waiting for them; as they approached, he held up a grimy, quivering hand, in the palm of which lay—a five-dollar gold-piece.
“What?” Mr. Webster said, amazed. “Still unchanged!”
“I thried to change it at half a dozen cantinas,” Don Juan wheezed, “but divil a bit av systim did any av thim have. Wan offered this in spiggoty money an' the other offered that, an' sure if I'd taken the best that was offered me in exchange, ye might have t'ought I'd tuk more nor wan dhrink.”
“Bravo! Three long, loud, raucous cheers for Don Juan Cafetéro!” Dolores cried. “That's just exactly what he expected you to do, Don Juan.”
“Give a dog a bad name, an' 'twill shtick to him,” the derelict replied resignedly.
“Was it a terrible task to come back without a drink, Don Juan?”
He shivered. “A shky-blue kangaroo wit' a pink tail an' green ears chased me into this patio, ma'am.”
“You're very brave, Cafferty. How does it feel to win back your self-respect?” Webster asked him.