might as well go the whole hog, Judge. The niggers won't be no good
without the land ter work 'em on. Fling 'em into the pot---they're as
good as money."

Beaucaire looked up, red-eyed, into the impassive countenance opposite.
His lips twitched, yet managed to make words issue between them.

"How about that, Kirby?" he asked hoarsely. "Will you accept a bill of
sale?"

Kirby grinned, shuffling his hand carelessly.

"Why not? 'twon't be the first time I've played for niggers. They are
worth so much gold down the river. What have you got?"

"I can't tell that offhand," sullenly. "About twenty field hands."

"And house servants?"

"Three or four."

The gambler's lips set more tightly, a dull gleam creeping into his
eyes.

"See here, Beaucaire," he hissed sharply. "This is my game and I play
square and never squeal. I know about what you've got, for I've looked
them over; thought we might get down to this sometime. I can make a
pretty fair guess as to what your niggers are worth. That's why I just
raised you ten thousand, and put up the money. Now, if you think this
is a bluff, call me."