“Well,” suggested Mr. Sharper, with a careless yawn, “we might get up a little bet on our hands, anyhow, just to pass away the time. I’ve felt dull for the last half-hour, I’d risk something on my hand, if I were _sure_ of losing. But I warn you, it is not a bad hand. Have you all any thing like poker hands? Come: a pair of deuces——” “I haven’t,” said his left-hand man, interrupting him. “Nor I,” said his left-hand-man’s partner, who sat on his right. “Well, darned if _I_ haven’t, though,” said Mr. Greeney. “Have you, really?” responded Mr. Sharper. “Well, I’ll bet five dollars on my hand, win or lose.” And he carelessly threw upon the table a crumpled five-dollar bill, which he took from his vest pocket. Mr. Greeney got a little excited at this demonstration, laid his cards on the table, faces downwards, of course, thrust his hand deep into his right-hand trousers pocket, and nervously drew forth his pocketbook. “I’ll cover your five dollars, and go five dollars better,” he said, with firmness, as he laid down a ten-dollar bill. Who wouldn’t have ventured something on four kings—next to the best hand in the pack—that had thus come out by chance, while playing euchre for amusement? “You do?” said Mr. Sharper, glancing up and down the cabin. “Now, the captain wouldn’t allow—however, he isn’t about. I didn’t think of risking more than five dollars, but I guess you are trying to bluff me. I’ll not back out. Here’s fifteen dollars more, and that makes the bet twenty.” And he produced the amount specified. “Ten dollars better still,” said Mr. Greeney, promptly, as he laid down twenty dollars. It was quite clear he had played poker before. Mr. Sharper hesitated. “Thirty dollars,” said he. “I—no, confound it!—I’ll put fifty on the top of it, and that’s all I _will_ risk!—No—or, yes; I’ve said it now, and will stick to it. It won’t make me a bankrupt, if I _do_ lose.” Thereupon, he produced three twenty-dollar bills and laid them on the table—making the bet eighty dollars. “I call you,” said Mr. Greeney, eagerly, as he counted out five ten-dollar bills and threw them down upon the table. “_Four aces_,” said Mr. Sharper, as he smilingly displayed the hateful four that can’t be beat. “What have _you_?” What could he have, in a case of that kind? “Only four kings! Darn the luck!” poor Mr. Greeney exclaimed, in unfeigned vexation. Then he said, “Pshaw!” “The deuce on it!” “I’ll be!——” and several other words, better and worse; while Mr. Sharper, with a calmness, complacence and benignity that one could not but admire, raked down the “pile,” and stowed it away in his pocket. “Well, whose deal is it?” said Mr. Sharper, who seemed to devote no further thought to the trifle he had won.