“Ike, how much money you got?”
“Just enough for me to get both hands around it and hang on,” says I.
“Tellurium is betting on a cinch or he wouldn’t bet, so you might as
well back up, Magpie.”
“Thanks, Ike,” says he. “We’ll make that for a hundred, Tellurium. I’ll
get a pencil and write out the articles of agreement.”
“How much you got, Magpie?” I asks.
“Forty-three dollars.”
What can you do with a person like that? I had fifty-seven dollars
before them two fool-hens got to betting, and when things are settled I
ain’t got nothing but a receipt, which ain’t honored in no place where
they sells things.
The agreement reads something like this: