ou must take me for a d----d fool, sure enough; but you don't
look like you had any more sense than the law allows. I got that
salt out of the salt-bag, and I tasted it before I wrapped it up,
and I know it is salt, and that settles it."

"But, Devol, salt does turn to ashes when it is hot; and I will
bet you the drinks for the crowd that there is no salt in that
paper on the stove."

Then they had another big laugh at my expense, and I got mad. I
jumped up and said:

"I will bet you $500 that there is nothing in that paper but salt."

Picket jumped up also, saying:

"I will just go you once, anyway."

I put up my $500 with the barkeeper; but Picket did not have but
$350, and he wanted to bet that. I told him he could back out,
but I would not bet less than what I had up. Then he put up his
watch and chain for the other $150. One of the men that had been
enjoying the fun, said:

"I will bet you $100 that Mr. Picket wins the money."

I replied, "I will not bet less than $500."

Then Picket said, "He wants to bluff you out; but he can't bluff
me worth a cent."

So the man put up his $500, and I covered it. Everybody was excited,
and some of my friends who had seen the trick that was being played
on me told me not to bet; but I was mad, and would not listen to
them.

When all was ready, the package was taken off the stove and handed
to the barkeeper. He untwisted the paper and spread it out on the
counter, and in it was as nice fine white--salt as you ever saw in
your life.

The barkeeper tasted some of it, just as I did when I put up the
_two_ papers _just_ alike, and then handed me over the money and
Mr. Picket's watch and chain.

Mr. "Red River" took a large pinch of the bait, and it (or the loss
of his money and watch) came near strangling him. He did not
entirely recover from the effect while he remained on the boat;
for every time he was well enough to come out of his room, some
one would say "Salt," and that would make him sick again.

I have caught a great many suckers in my time, but Mr. Picket was
the first one I ever salted down.

THE ARKANSAS KILLERS.

For many years I almost lived on board the packets. I felt more
at home on any of the Mississippi steamboats than I did on land in
any city or town in the United States. I had friends wherever I
went, and I knew every officer and many of the crew on nearly every
boat that ran the river. While on water, I did not fear any man
o