He was talking to a little bunch of us, enumerating those on whom he
had called. The last one he spoke of was the big shoeman of the town.
He said, "But I can't do anything with that fellow; why, his brother,
who is his partner, sells shoes on the road."
"I'm all through with my business," spoke up a drygoods man, "but I'll
bet the cigars that I can make Hoover (the shoeman) come and look at
your stuff. That is, I'll make out to him that I'm selling shoes and I
bet you that I'll bring him to my sample room."
"Well, I'll just take that bet," said the shoeman.
About this time I left for the depot. The next time I saw the drygoods
man I asked him how he came out on that bet.
"Oh, I'd forgotten all about that," said he. "Well, I'll tell you.
Just after you left I went right down to the shoeman's store. I found
him back in his office writing some letters. I walked right up to him
--you know I didn't have anything to lose except the cigars and their
having the laugh on me--and I said, 'You are Mr.
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