Why not improve the shining hour? The coin was
obviously bad.
"I'll take it before it gets you into trouble," he insinuated.
Steve lurched to his feet, thrusting an undecorative face over the
table. "You think' it's bad?" he queried darkly. "You think I'm a
fool?" He flung a packet of bills on the table. "Cover that, if you
dare," he said. "There's the money for the Post place--ten thousand
dollars. It says that's a good dollar. Put up or shut up!"
"You'll lose your money!" warned Mitchell. "Then you'll say I took
advantage of you."
"_I_ know what _you_ think," said Steve shrewdly. "_You_ think
I'm drunk, but I'm not. _I_ know a good thing when I see it. Don't
you--don't you lose no sleep about _me_. I'm--I'm all right, you bet!
Now what'll you do or take water?" he fleered.
Surreptitiously Loring had tried the coin with his penknife during
this controversy. The metal was quite soft--the knife left a great
scar, which he flashed at Mitchell.
"Well--if you insist," said Mitchell reluctantly. He counted out ten
one-thousand-dollar bills. "Who'll be the judge?"
"Anybody. Archie. I've got you skinned a mile anyway."
"I am sorry, Mr. Thompson," said Archibald, "but this dollar seems to
be pewter, or something of that general description. Aw, give him back
his money, Mitchell--he's drinking.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172