We was a hundred ahead already, 'cordin' to the blackboard, and was figgerin' what sort of palaces we'd build when we cashed in.' "'Ain't no use preachin' a long sermon over the remains.

'Twas a simple funeral and nobody sent flowers.

Inside of a month we was cleaned out and the wheat place had gone out of business--failed, busted, you understand.

Our fish dealer friend asked some questions, and found out the shebang wa'n't a real stock dealer's at all.

'Twas what they call a "bucket shop," and we'd bought nothin' but air, and paid a commission for buyin' it.