A CORNER IN AMALGAMATED DOG
"‘I'll be satisfied with my scalp,' I reminded.
"‘I'll get you incorporated, and they won't dare—Hullo! John is short on Parrots Limited, as I live! It's time to rasp him, I guess. First half of the second, boys, and two men out. Parrots Limited walks to eight.'
"A wild roar from the chief as he dragged his nervous orbs over the bark terminated with his hurling a spear at Wogo. Mercy! but wasn't Tib angry! He waltzed forth and told John all about himself in a manner that would make a canal mule dimple in pleasure. The chief bleated back and Wogo shivered in and explained, 'The Big One would know, señor, why he loses.'
"‘Tell 'em all,' thundered Tib, 'that this is a brace game and we play no favorites.'
"I don't know in what version his proclamation arrived, but it seemed to please the rank and file, and in thirty seconds the mob had bet our wild-eyed mortgagee to a stand-still.
"Then, as a bit of diplomacy, Tib announced that seats in the exchange cost two dogs per, payable to the chief, and John gradually smiled and said something about the 'Wabash-going-turnips-Monday,' and promised to brain the speculator who failed to pay up instanter. But to drag rock-salt across the raw grain, Tib next proclaimed:
"‘Amalgamated Dog slides to eight.'
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