An' he gives
it to Nell, who ain't sooperstitious.
"'Do you-alls b'ar in mind,' says Boggs, as we takes a drink later,
'how I foresees this yere racket the minute I hears Cherokee a-
tellin' about his "Jacks up on eights"--the "hand the dead man
holds?"'"
CHAPTER XIV.
THE RIVAL DANCE-HALLS.
It was sweet and cool after the rain, and the Old Cattleman and I,
moved by an admiration for the open air which was mutual, found
ourselves together on the porch.
As in part recompense for his reminiscences of the several days
before, I regaled my old friend with the history of a bank-failure,
the details as well as the causes of which were just then forcing
themselves upon me in the guise of business.
"The fact is," I said, as I came to the end of my story, "the fact
is, the true cause of this bank's downfall was a rivalry--what one
might call a business feud--which grew into being between it and a
similar institution which had opened as its neighbor. In the
competition which fell out they fairly cut each other's throat. They
both failed."
"An' I takes it," remarked the Old Cattleman in comment, "one of
these yere trade dooels that a-way goes on vindictive an'
remorseless, same as if it's a personal fight between cow-folks over
cattle.
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