"What?" Challoner began to understand.
Pemmican nodded.
"Sure thing—ten thousand dollars!"
Slowly and deliberately Challoner refilled his glass to the brim. For a moment there was silence, then Pemmican repeated tantalisingly:—
"Ten thousand dollars—not a cent less!"
Challoner thought for a moment.
"How did you come out?" he asked, much to the other's surprise.
Pemmican shook his head.
"I lost a cool thousand because I did not back the mare. I played on Tigerskin. I've got to get that thousand back, somehow."
Challoner emptied his glass.