stirring the fire. After an interval of gloom, in which each partner
successively drew the candle to his side to examine his cards, Uncle Jim
said:--
"Say?"
"Well!" responded Uncle Billy.
"Are you sure you saw that third crow on the wood-pile?"
"Sure as I see you now--and a darned sight plainer. Why?"
"Nothin', I was just thinkin'. Look here! How do we stand now?"
Uncle Billy was still losing. "Nevertheless," he said cheerfully, "I'm
owin' you a matter of sixty thousand dollars."
Uncle Jim examined the book abstractedly. "Suppose," he said slowly, but
without looking at his partner, "suppose, as it's gettin' late now, we
play for my half share of the claim agin the limit--seventy thousand--to
square up."
"Your half share!" repeated Uncle Billy, with amused incredulity.
"My half share of the claim,--of this yer house, you know,--one half of
all that Dick Bullen calls our rotten starvation property," reiterated
Uncle Jim, with a half smile.
Uncle Billy laughed. It was a novel idea; it was, of course, "all in the
air," like the rest of their game, yet even then he had an odd feeling
that he would have liked Dick Bullen to have known it. "Wade in, old
pard," he said. "I'm on it."
Uncle Jim lit another candle to reinforce the fading light, and the deal
fell to Uncle Billy. He turned up Jack of clubs. He also turned a little
redder as he took up his cards, looked at them, and glanced hastily at
his partner. "It's no use playing," he said. "Look here!" He laid down
his cards on the table. They were the ace, king and queen of clubs,
and Jack of spades,--or left bower,--which, with the turned-up Jack of
clubs,--or right bower,--comprised ALL the winning cards!
"By jingo! If we'd been playin' four-handed, say you an' me agin some
other ducks, we'd have made 'four' in that deal, and h'isted some
money--eh?" and his eyes sparkled. Uncle Jim, also, had a slight
tremulous light in his own.
"Oh no! I didn't see no three crows this afternoon," added Uncle Billy
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