your partner is a dead game sport to take so brief a
fortune an'--win all, lose all--go after more'n twenty times as much.
Your partner's a shore enough optimist that a-way.'

"Cherokee don't make no retort. This Holliday ain't posted none that
the partner Cherokee's mentionin' is Faro Nell, an' Cherokee allows
he won't onbosom himse'f on that p'int onless his hand is forced.

"When the time arrives to open the game, the heft of Wolfville's
public is gathered at the Red Light. The word goes 'round as to the
enterprisin' Holliday bein' out for Cherokee's entire game; an' the
prospect of seein' a limit higher than a cat's back, an' a dooel to
the death, proves mighty pop'lar. The play opens to a full house,
shore!

"'What limit do you give me?' says this Holliday, with a sort o'
cough, at the same time settin' in opposite to Cherokee. 'Be
lib'ral; I ain't more'n a year to live, an' I've got to play 'em high
an' hard to get average action. If I'm in robust health now, with a
long, useful life before me, the usual figgers would do. Considerin'
my wasted health, however, I shore hopes you'll say something like
the even thousand.'

"'Which I'll do better than that,' returns Cherokee, as he snaps the
deck in the box, 'I'll let you fix the limit to suit yourse'f. Make
it the ceilin' if the sperit moves you.'

"'That's gen'rous!' says Holliday. 'An' to mark my appreciation
tharof, I'll jest nacherally take every resk of splits an' put ten
thousand in the pot, coppered; ten thousand in the big squar'; an'
ten thousand, coppered, on the high kyard.'

"Son, we-all sports standin' lookin' on draws a deep breath. Thirty
thousand in three ten thousand dollar bets, an' all on the layout at
once, marks a epock in Wolfville business life wherefrom folks can
onblushin'ly date time! Thar it lays however, an' the two sharps
most onmoved tharby is Cherokee an' Holliday themse'fs.

"'Turn your game!' says this Holliday, when his money is down, an'
leanin' back to light a seegyar.

"Cherokee makes the turn. Never does I witness action so sudden an'
complete! It's shore the sharpest! The top kyard as the deck lays
in the box is a ten-spot. An' as the papers is shoved forth, how do
you-all reckon they falls! I'm a Mexican! if they don't come
seven-king! This Holliday wins all along; Cherokee is out thirty
thousand an' only three kyards showed! How's that for perishin'
flesh an' blood!

"I looks at Cherokee; his face