“And the backs all jist as like as kin be?” said the senior Suggs, examining the cards. “More like nor cow-peas,” said Simon. “It can’t be done, Simon,” observed the old man, with great solemnity. “Bob Smith kin do it, and so kin I.” “It’s agin nater, Simon; thar a’n’t a man in Augusty, nor on the top of the yearth, that kin do it!” “Daddy,” said our hero, “ef you’ll bet me—” “What!” thundered old Mr. Suggs, “_bet_, did you say?” and he came down with a _scorer_ across Simon’s shoulders—“me, Jed’diah Suggs, that’s been in the Lord’s sarvice these twenty years—_me_ bet, you nasty, sassy, triflin’, ugly—” “I didn’t go to say that, daddy; that warn’t what I ment, adzactly. I ment to say that ef you’d let me off from this here maulin’ you owe me, and _give me_ ‘Bunch’ ef I cut Jack, I’d _give you_ all this here silver, ef I didn’t—that’s all. To be sure, I allers know’d _you_ wouldn’t _bet_.” Old Mr. Suggs ascertained the exact amount of the silver which his son handed to him, in an old leathern pouch, for inspection. He also, mentally, compared that sum with an imaginary one, the supposed value of a certain Indian pony, called “Bunch,” which he had bought for his “old woman’s” Sunday riding, and which had sent the old lady into a fence-corner, the first—and only—time she had ever mounted him. As he weighed the pouch of silver in his hand, Mr. Suggs also endeavoured to analyze the character of the transaction proposed by Simon. “It sartinly _can’t_ be nothin’ but _givin’_, no way it kin be twisted,” he murmured to himself. “I _know_ he can’t do it, so there’s no resk. What makes bettin’? The resk. It’s a one-sided business, and I’ll jist let him give me all his money, and that’ll put all his wild sportin’ notions out of his head.” “Will you stand it, daddy?” asked Simon, by way of waking the old man up. “You mought as well, for the whippin’ won’t do you no good; and as for Bunch, nobody about the plantation won’t ride him, but me.” “Simon,” replied the old man, “I agree to it. Your old daddy is in a close place about payin’ for his land; and this here money—it’s jist eleven dollars lacking of twenty-five cents—will help out mightily. But mind, Simon, ef anything’s said about this, hereafter, remember, you _give_ me the money.” “Very well, daddy, and ef the thing works up instid o’ down, I s’pose we’ll say you give _me_ Bunch—eh?” “You won’t never be troubled to tell how you come by Bunch; the thing’s agin natur, and can’t be done. What old Jed’diah Suggs knows, he knows as good as anybody. Give me them fixaments, Simon.”