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Mr. Scraggs by Henry Wallace Phillips
page 36 of 123 (29%)
as I could see, that collar-button was all that stood between me
and a long, wide, thick, and cold winter. Hows'mever, there was no
unmanly tears in the eyes of the support of the noble house of
Scraggs when he plunked the lot on the corner.

"'Slave,' says I to the dealer in the language I learned shiftin'
scenes for a week, back in old St. Looey. 'Slave!' says I. 'I've
stacked my life agin the cast in your eye, and I will stand the
razzle of your dyestuff. Shoot! You're faded!'

"And he was, too. I caught that turn and about every other in the
deal; split him in half on the last card, and from that on I ripped
him up the back and knocked chunks off'n him until everybody got
interested.

"The game grew too small for both of us. I had four hundred
dollars in checks before me, and my original collar-button. I
asked him for his limit. He replied that notwithstandin' the
enormous and remarkable growth of institutions of learning
throughout the country and the widespread interest in arithmetic,
it hadn't been figured out yet.

"'Make good,' says I, tappin' the table with the finger of
authority.

"'I got you,' says he, and slams his roll upon the table. 'There's
eight hundred dollars.'

"'Well,' says I, 'I shall descend upon it in two flies, not
counting odd chips. Shall we cut?'
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