"It was a confidence game. We played it on a julery-shop in St. Louis.
What we was after was a couple of noble big di'monds as big as
hazel-nuts, which everybody was running to see. We was dressed up fine,
and we played it on them in broad daylight. We ordered the di'monds sent
to the hotel for us to see if we wanted to buy, and when we was examining
them we had paste counterfeits all ready, and THEM was the things that
went back to the shop when we said the water wasn't quite fine enough for
twelve thousand dollars."

"Twelve-thousand-dollars!" Tom says. "Was they really worth all that
money, do you reckon?"

"Every cent of it."

"And you fellows got away with them?"

"As easy as nothing. I don't reckon the julery people know they've been
robbed yet. But it wouldn't be good sense to stay around St. Louis, of
course, so we considered where we'd go. One was for going one way, one
another, so we throwed up, heads or tails, and the Upper Mississippi won.
We done up the di'monds in a paper and put our names on it and put it in
the keep of the hotel clerk, and told him not to ever let either of us
have it again without the others was on hand to see it done; then we went
down town, each by his own self--because I reckon maybe we all had the
same notion. I don't know for certain, but I reckon maybe we had."

"What notion?" Tom says.

"To rob the others."