"All right, I'll go fust if you'll blindfold me," he ses.

"There ain't no need for that, Bob," ses Mr. Smith. "You can't see in
the bag, and even if you could it wouldn't help you."

"Never mind; you blindfold me," ses Bob; "it'll set a good example to the
others."

Smith did it at last, and when Bob Pretty put his 'and in the bag and
pulled out a paper you might ha' heard a pin drop.

"Open it and see what number it is, Mr. Smith," ses Bob Pretty. "Twenty-
three, I expect; I never 'ave no luck."

Smith rolled out the paper, and then 'e turned pale and 'is eyes seemed
to stick right out of his 'ead.

"He's won it!" he ses, in a choky voice. "It's Number I. Bob Pretty
'as won the prize."

[Illustration: "He's won it!" he ses, in a choky voice.
"It's Number I."]

You never 'eard such a noise in this 'ere public-'ouse afore or since;
everybody shouting their 'ardest, and Bill Chambers stamping up and down
the room as if he'd gone right out of his mind.

"Silence!" ses Mr. Smith, at last. "Silence! How dare you make that
noise in my 'ouse, giving it a bad name? Bob Pretty 'as won it fair and