“No,” returned Number Two. “You have opened it once, and know how; or else I would. Why didn’t you bet before you tried it? you would have won then.” “I’m sorry I didn’t now,” said Number One. “O, pshaw!” said the same darkey who had spoken before. “I seen how him opened it!” “Well, _you_ can’t open it,” retorted Number Two, banteringly. “An’ will you bet me a hundred dollahs I can’t?” said the darkey, on whose black face I could read _enterprise_. I happened to be sitting by the railing of the cabin deck just above, and could look down and witness the whole scene. “Why—I—yes—yes, I will,” stammered Number Two, with well-feigned hesitation. “You’ll lose then,” Number One said, in a low tone, as though speaking to himself. “Will you put up de money?” pursued the darkey. “I—why wouldn’t—yes, I will. I won’t be backed out, even if I lose. I’ll put up the money in the hands of this gentleman or any one else.” When he said “this gentleman,” he pointed to Number One. “You had better not trust me with the stakes,” said the latter jocosely, “I might run off.” “O, no fear of that,” replied Number Two. “We’ll trust you. I know a _gentleman_ when I see one.” “By golly!—I—I bet,” said the darkey, decidedly. And he produced a fifty-dollar bill and some odd tens and fives amounting in all to one hundred dollars; and he handed the money to Number One, who was to act as stake holder. “Come, now,” said another darkey, to Number Two, as the latter hesitated. “Don’t back out. Put up your money.” “Confound me if I’ll be backed out!” he said, as he took out his pocket-book, counted out one hundred dollars and handed it to the stake-holder. O, that money was in precious hands! “Now,” said the darkey, who had made up his mind to win or lose one hundred dollars, “fix de lock fur me.” Number Two “fixed” it. The darkey took it, and first, merely as a matter of form, took a pull at the ring-bolt. It would not open, of course. Well, no matter: _he_ knew where that “secret spring” was. You bet! He easily found the little protuberance, and pressed on it with his thumb. But it wouldn’t open. He pressed harder. No go. He pressed harder still, and pulled harder at the ring-bolt, at the same time. Bootless. He pressed harder still and pulled harder still. Vain efforts. He got a little apprehensive and a little desperate. The sum of one hundred dollars was at stake. The lock _must_ be opened. He inserted the ring-bolt between his white teeth, placed his thumb on the imaginary spring, and pulled and pressed, and pressed and pulled, with the energy of despair. The lock was firm: his efforts futile. A laugh now went round at the poor darkey’s expense; and he trembled, perceptibly, while his face assumed a sort of lead-color, with a greenish tinge. His thick lips also became quite void of moisture, and he spoke in a husky voice. “Dun’no—dun’no—wedder I kin open him or not.” “I don’t think you can,” said Number Two, calmly.