"What a lie? For what you tell me 'What a lie?' I don't tell you no
lie."

"_Non, non!_ I give you _forty-five!_" shouted the Colonel.

Charlie shook his head again.

"Fifty!"

He shook it again.

The figures rose and rose to--

"Seventy-five!"

The answer was an invitation to go away and let the owner alone, as he
was, in certain specified respects, the vilest of living creatures, and
no company for a fine gentyman.

The "fine gentyman" longed to blaspheme--but before old Charlie!--in the
name of pride, how could he? He mounted and started away.

"Tell you what I'll make wid you," said Charlie.

The other, guessing aright, turned back without dismounting, smiling.

"How much Belles Demoiselles hoes me now?" asked the deaf one.

"One hundred and eighty thousand dollars," said the Colonel, firmly.