When I was out West I saw two miners playing cards in a place called Toughnut Cafe. They finally found their amusement rather a dull one, for neither could overreach the other. At last one of the precious pair pushed his chair back, arose, and said:
“I’m tired of this; let’s have a change—I’ll jest bet yer a even thousand that I kin take them keerds and cut the jack o’ hearts the very fust time.”
“I’ll take yer,” replied the other, a very quiet fellow.
Stakes were deposited with an onlooker, and a pack of cards was produced and laid on the table between the gamblers. The layer of the bet thereupon drew his bowie-knife and neatly sliced the cards in two from top to bottom.
“Thar,” said he, “I cut the jack o’ hearts the fust time, mister, an’ I reckon I’ll freeze on to that thar cash. Fork her over, mister. The agreement was that I were to cut the jack the fust time, an’ I done it. I cut it, didn’t I?”
“Wal, no,” said the other, “I rayther think not, for th’ jack were not there. Yer see, stranger, I thought it wiser, under the circumstances, to take the precaution of placing that there card up my sleeve!”