Back in the Old West, a
number of men were upstairs in a boarding house amusing
themselves with a game of cards when there was a cry
from the street below of “Fire! Fire!” The
men looked at one another in disbelief. One of the windows
grew orange with the flames. “Wait!” said
the dealer. “Let’s just finish this hand;
we’ve got plenty of time—I have a key to
the back door.” The men nodded in approval, then
quickly picked up the dealt cards.
Precious minutes passed. One of the men became nervous
as the flames licked through the now broken window.
With darting eyes and a sweat-filled brow, he asked
for the key.
“Coward!” muttered the dealer as he tossed
across the key. Each of them then rushed to the door
and waited with bated breath as the key was placed into
the lock. “It won’t turn!” was the
cry. “Let me have it!” said the dealer.
As he tried in vain to turn the key, he whispered in
horror, “It’s the wrong key!”