“I’ve seen Pete play it,” thought he to himself, “and I guessed _rite every time_. “Well,” said he, “I’ll go and see how it was dun, ennyhow.” The two walked along to the same bale of cotton which had witnessed the game before, and the gimlet man took the identical thimbles and ball which had served him before, from his pocket, and sat down, requesting the farmer to be seated also. “Now, Sir,” said Barker, “when your son was here, I bought his cotton, and paid him for it: just as he was going away, I proposed showing him a trick worth seeing. I took this little ball, and put it under this middle thimble. “‘Now,’ said I to him, ‘you see it, and now you don’t see it; and I’ll bet you you can’t tell where the little joker is.’” “Well,” said the farmer, “all’s rite—the ball’s now under the middle thimble.” “When I had put it under there,” continued Barker, “your son wanted to bet me that it was under the middle thimble.” “So it is,” said the old man, interrupting him. “No,” returned Barker, “it’s under the one next you.” “I tell you it ain’t,” said Mr. Wilkins, who strongly advocated the doctrine that “seeing is believing.” He was sure he was right, and now a chance presented itself of regaining his former load of cotton. “I tell you it ain’t. I’m harder to head than Pete wus, and blamed ef I don’t bet another load o’ cotton, that’s at the dore by this time.” “You are mistaken,” said Barker, smiling; “but if you wish it, I’ll bet.” “Let’s understand one nuther fust,” said the farmer. “You say that ere little ball you had jes now, ain’t under the little thimble in the middle—I say it is. Ef it ain’t, I’m to give you the load o’ cotton—ef it is, you’re to give me four hundred and fifty-one dollars no cents.” “Exactly so,” said Barker. “Well, I’ll bet,” said the farmer, “and here’s my hand.” The bet was sealed, and with a triumphant air which he but poorly concealed, the farmer snatched up the middle thimble, but no ball was there. “Well, I’ll be dod drapt!” he exclaimed, at the same time drawing a long breath, and dropping the thimble. “Derned ef it’s _thar_! Four hundred and fifty-one dollars no cents gone _agin_! Heven and airth, what’ll Mahaly and the gals say! I’ll never heer the eend of it tel I’m in my grave. Then thar’s Pete! _Gee-mi-my! jest_ to think o’ Pete—fur _him_ to know his ole daddy wus made a fool of too! four hundred and fifty-one dollars no cents! but I wouldn’t keer _that_ for it,” snapping his fingers, “ef it wern’t fur Pete.” The Gimblit man reminded our friend of the result of his bet, by telling him that the sooner he unloaded the better. “Now you ain’t, shore ’nuff, in _yearnest_,” said the old man. “Dead earnest,” returned Barker. “Well, stranger,” added our friend, “I’se a honest man, and stands squar up to my contracts.”