"What do you take me for--confidence man?" The Major retorted. "How you
expect an old sport like me to bet upon a certainty?"

"Never mind your ethics. The wager is drink, not money. In any event we
shall have the wine."

"Oh, well," says The Frenchman, with a shrug and a droll grimace, "if you
insist on paying for a bottle of wine come with me."

He took a lighted candle, and together they went back to the ice box. It
was literally filled with diamond backs, and my friend thought he was gone
for sure.

"La!" says The Major with triumph, rummaging among the mass of shells with
his cane as he held the candle aloft.

"But," says my friend, ready to surrender, yet taking a last chance, "you
told me they were dancing the cancan!"

The Major picked up a terrapin and turned it over in his hand. Quite numb
and frozen, the animal within made no sign. Then he stirred the shells
about in the box with his cane. Still not a show of life. Of a sudden he
stopped, reflected a moment, then looked at his watch.

"Ah," he murmured. "I quite forget. The terrapin, they are asleep. It is
ten-thirty, and the terrapin he regularly go to sleep at ten o'clock by
the watch every night." And without another word he reached for the Veuve
Cliquot!