'Thankee!…Here's luck!'
'Here's luck!'
The country was pretty open round there―the nearest timber was better than a mile away, and I wanted to give Bill a good start across the flat before the go-as-you-can commenced; so I talked for awhile, and while we were talking I thought I might as well go the whole hog―I might as well die for a pound as a penny, if I had to die; and if I hadn't I'd have the pound to the good, anyway, so to speak. Anyhow, the risk would be about the same, or less, for I might have the spirit to run harder the more I had to run for―the more spirits I had to run for, in fact, as it turned out―so I says:
'I think I'll take one of them there flasks of whisky to last us on the road.'
'Right y'are,' says Stiffner. 'What'll yer have―a small one or a big one?'
'Oh, a big one, I think―if I can get it into my pocket.'
'It'll be a tight squeeze,' he said, and he laughed.
'I'll try,' I said. 'Bet you two drinks I'll get it in.'
'Done!' he says. 'The top inside coat pocket, and no tearing.'
It was a big bottle, and all my pockets were small; but I got it into the pocket he'd betted against. It was a tight squeeze, but I got it in.
Then we both laughed, but his laugh was nastier than usual, because it was meant to be pleasant, and he'd lost two drinks; and my laugh wasn't easy―I was anxious as to which of us would laugh next.
