draw, an' Jim has to take what's left. So the Mexicans tells Tate to
send me after my bean ag'in.

"`"Hold on a second, Sam," says Jim, an' by this time he's steady as
a church. "Sam," he goes on, "thar's no use you--all gettin' the
short end of this. Thar's reasons for you livin', which my case is
void tharof. Now let me ask you: be you up on beans? Can you tell a
black from a white bean by the feel? "

"`"No," I says, "beans is all a heap the same to me."

"'"That's what I allows," goes on this Jim. "Now yere's where my
sooperior knowledge gets in. If these Mexicans had let me draw for
you I'd fixed it, but it looks like they has scrooples. But listen,
an' you beats the deal as it is. Thar's a difference in beans same
as in ponies. Black beans is rough like a cactus compared to white
beans, which said last vegetable is shorely as smooth as glass. Now
yere's what you--all does; jest grp[e an' scout 'round in that bag
until you picks out the smooth bean. That's your bean; that's the
white bean. Cinch the smooth bean an' the black one comes to me."

"When Jim says all this it seems like I'm in a daze an' sorter
woozy. I never doubts him for a moment. Of course I don't take no
advantage of what he says. I recalls the advice my old mother gives
me; it's long enough ago now. The old lady says: "Samyool, never let
me hear of you weakenin'. Be a man, or a mouse, or a long-tail rat."
So when Jim lays it off about them two beans bein' smooth an' rough
that a-way, an' the white bein' the smooth bean, I nacherally
searches out the rough bean, allowin' she'll shore be black; which
shows my intellects can't cope with Jim's none.