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.