with my six-shooter. It's playin' it low on Enright an' Doc Peets an' the rest, but I'll do it for you, Nell. It all comes from them jacks up on eights.'
"With this, Cherokee tells Nell 'good-by,' an' squar's himse'f. He begins to talk, an' Nell makes a quiet little break for the corral.
"But no hoss is ever needed. Cherokee don't talk a minute when Old Gentry comes buckin' offen his chair in a 'pleptic fit. A 'pleptic fit is permiscus an' tryin', an' when Old Gentry gets through an' comes to himse'f, he's camped jest this side of the dead line. He can only whisper.
"'Come yere,' says he, motionin' to Cherokee. 'Thar's a stack of blues where I sets 'em on the ten open, which you ain't turned for none yet: Take all I has besides an' put with it. If it lose, it's yours; if it win, give it to the little girl.'
"This is all Old Gentry says, an' he cashes in the very next second on the list.
"Enright goes through 'em, an' thar's over two thousand dollars in his war-bags; an', obeyin' them last behests, we-alls goes over to the Red Light an' puts it on the ten along of the stack of blues. It's over the limit, but Cherokee proceeds with the deal, an' when it comes I'm blessed if the ten ain't loser an' Cherokee gets it all.
"'But I won't win none ag'in a dead man; says Cherokee. An' he gives it to Nell, who ain't sooperstitious.
