We were once coming down on the steamer _Belle Key_, of Louisville,
and my partner was doing the playing that day. We had won some
big money, and were about to quit, when up stepped a very tall man,
who looked pale and sickly. He watched the game for some time,
and then pulled out a $1,000 note and laid it on the card he wanted,
and of course he lost. He did not say a word, but started back to
this room. I thought he acted strange, and I concluded to keep an
eye on him. Pretty soon out he came with an overcoat on his arm,
and he walked up as near the table as he could get, and commenced
to push one of the crowd away so as to get closer. Finally he got
at my partner's back, with me close at his heels, when he commenced
to pull from under his coat a large Colt's pistol. As he leveled
it to shoot him in the back of the head, I knocked him stiff, and
the gun dropped on the floor. It was cocked, but it did not go
off. They carried the man back to his room, put cold water on him,
and finally brought him to. He sent for me, and went I went back
he reached out his hand, and said: "Friend, you did me a kindly
act, for I had made up mind to kill that man. I am glad it happened
so, for it was all the money I had, and it was raised by my friends,
who, knowing that I never would reach home again, were sending me
to Florida, as all the doctors have given me up; and I thought I
would kill him, as I do not expect to get off this boat alive. I
have got consumption in its last stages." So I pulled out $1,000,
counted it out to him, and he cried like a child. His pistol I
gave to the mate, as I thought he had no need of such a weapon.