Ain't I right, Doc?' An' Cherokee, lookin'
warm an' earnest, turns to Peets.
"'As absolootely right as the sights of a Sharp's rifle,' says
Peets; 'an', while I'm not yere to render you giddy with encomiums,
Cherokee, you shore ought to expand them sentiments into a lecture.'
"'Jest to 'llustrate my meanin',' resooms Cherokee, 'let me onbosom
myse'f as to what happens a party back in Posey County, Injeanny.
I'm plumb callow at the time, bein' only about the size an' valyoo
of a pa'r of fives. but I'm plenty impressed by them events I'm
about to recount, an' the mem'ry is fresh enough for yesterday. But
to come flutterin' from my perch. Thar's a sport who makes his home-
camp in that hamlet which fosters my infancy; that is, he's thar
about six months in the year. His long suit is playin' the ponies--
he can beat the races; an' where he falls down is faro-bank, which
never fails to freeze to all the coin he changes in. That's the
palin' off his fence; faro-bank. He never does triumph at it onct.
An' still the device has him locoed; he can't let it alone. Jest so
shorely as he finds a faro-bank, jest so shorely he sets in ag'inst
it, an' jest so shorely he ain't got a tail-feather left when he
quits.
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