Before the two adventurers left Vesper, Johnson wired to José Benavides
the date of his arrival at Tucson; and from El Paso he wired Jackson Carr
to leave Mohawk the next day but one, with the last load of water.
Johnson and Boland arrived in Tucson at seven-twenty-six in the morning.
Benavides met them at the station--a slender, wiry, hawk-faced man, with
a grizzled beard.
"So this is Francis Charles?" said Stanley.
"Frank by brevet, now. Pete has promoted me. He says that Francis Charles
is too heavy for the mild climate, and unwieldy in emergencies."
"You ought to see Frankie in his new khaki suit! He's just too sweet for
anything," said Pete. "You know Benavides, Stan?"
"Joe and I are lifelong friends of a week's standing. _Compadres_--eh,
Joe? He came to console my captivity on your account, at first, and found
me so charming that he came back on his own."
"_Ah, que hombre!_ Do not beliefing heem, Don Hooaleece. He ees begging
me efery day to come again back--that leetle one," cried Joe indignantly.
"I come here not wis plessir--not so. He is ver' _triste_, thees
boy--ver' dull. I am to take sorry for heem--_sin vergüenza!_ Also,
perhaps a leetle I am coming for that he ordaire always from the _Posada_
the bes' dinners, lak now."
"Such a care-free life!" sighed Francis-Frank. "Decidedly I must reform
my ways. One finds so much gayety and happiness among the criminal
classes, as I observed when I first met Mr. Johnson--in Vesper Jail."
"Oh, has Pete been in jail? That's good. Tell us about it, Pete."
That was a morning which flashed by quickly. The gleeful history of
events in Vesper was told once and again, with Pete's estimate and
critical analysis of the Vesperian world. Stanley's new fortunes were
announced, and Pete spoke privately with him concerning McClintock.
The coming campaign was planned in detail, over another imported meal.
Stanley was to be released that afternoon, Benavides becoming security
for him; but, through the courtesy of the sheriff, he was to keep his
cell until late bedtime. It was wished to make the start without courting
observation. For the same reason, when the sheriff escorted Stanley and
Benavides to the courthouse for the formalities attendant to the
bail-giving, Pete did not go along. Instead, he took Frank-Francis
for a sight-seeing stroll about the town.
It was past two when, in an unquiet street, Boland's eye fell upon a
signboard which drew his eye:
THE PALMILLA
THE ONLY SECOND-CLASS SALOON IN THE CITY
Boland called attention to this surprising proclamation.
"Yes," said Pete; "that's Rhiny Archer's place. Little old
Irishman--sharp as a steel trap. You'll like him. Let's go in."
They marched in. The barroom was deserted; Tucson was hardly awakened
from siesta as yet. From the open door of a side room came a murmur of
voices.
"Where's Rhiny?" demanded Pete of the bartender.
"Rhiny don't own the place now. Sold out and gone."
"Shucks!" said Pete. "That's too bad. Where'd he go?"
"Don't know. You might ask the boss." He raised his voice: "Hey, Dewing!
Gentleman here to speak to you."
At the summons, Something Dewing appeared at the side door; he gave a
little start when he saw Pete at the bar.
"Why, hello, Johnson! Well met! This is a surprise."
"Same here," said Pete. "Didn't know you were in town."
"Yes; I bought Rhiny out. Tired of Cobre. Want to take a hand at poker,
Pete? Here's two lumberjacks down from up-country, and honing to play.
Their money's burning holes in their pockets. I was just telling them
that it's too early to start a game yet."
He indicated the other two men, who were indeed disguised as lumberjacks,
even to their hands; but their faces were not the faces of workingmen.
"Cappers," thought Pete. Aloud he said: "Not to-day, I guess. Where's
Rhiny? In town yet?"
"No; he left. Don't know where he went exactly--somewhere up
Flagstaff-way, I think. But I can find out for you if you want to
write to him."
"Oh, no--nothing particular. Just wanted a chin with him."
"Better try the cards a whirl, Pete," urged the gambler. "I don't want to
start up for a three-handed game."
Pete considered. It was not good taste to give a second invitation;
evidently Dewing had strong reasons for desiring his company.
"If this tinhorn thinks he can pump me, I'll let him try it a while," he
reflected. He glanced at his watch.
"Three o'clock. I'll tell you what I'll do with you, Dewing," he said:
"I'll disport round till supper-time, if I last that long. But I can't go
very strong. Quit you at supper-time, win or lose. Say six o'clock, sharp.
The table will be filled up long before that."
"Come into the anteroom. We'll start in with ten-cent chips," said
Dewing. "Maybe your friend would like to join us?"
"Not at first. Later, maybe. Come on, Frankie!"
Boland followed into the side room. He was a little disappointed in Pete.
"You see, it's like this," said Pete, sinking into a chair after the door
was closed: "Back where Boland lives the rules are different. They play a
game something like Old Maid, and call it poker. He can sit behind me a
spell and I'll explain how we play it. Then, if he wants to, he can sit
in with us. Deal 'em up."
"Cut for deal--high deals," said Dewing.
After the first hand was played, Pete began his explanations:
"We play all jack pots here, Frankie; and we use five aces. That is in
the Constitution of the State of Texas, and the Texas influence reaches
clear to the Colorado River. The joker goes for aces, flushes, and
straights. It always counts as an ace, except to fill a straight; but
if you've got a four-card straight and the joker, then the joker fills
your hand. Here; I'll show you." Between deals he sorted out a ten, nine,
eight, and seven, and the joker with them.
"There," he said; "with a hand like this you can call the joker either a
jack or a six, just as you please. It is usual to call it a jack. But
in anything except straights and straight flushes--if there is any such
thing as a straight flush--the cuter card counts as an ace. Got that?"
"Yes; I think I can remember that."
"All right! You watch us play a while, then, till you get on to our
methods of betting--they're different from yours too. When you think
you're wise, you can take a hand if you want to."
Boland watched for a few hands and then bought in. The game ran on for an
hour, with the usual vicissitudes. Nothing very startling happened. The
"lumbermen" bucked each other furiously, bluffing in a scandalous manner
when they fought for a pot between themselves. Each was cleaned out
several times and bought more chips. Pete won; lost; bought chips; won,
lost, and won again; and repeated the process. Red and blue chips began
to appear: the table took on a distinctly patriotic appearance. The
lumbermen clamored to raise the ante; Johnson steadfastly declined.
Boland, playing cautiously, neither won nor lost. Dewing won quietly,
mostly from the alleged lumbermen.
The statement that nothing particular had occurred is hardly accurate.
There had been one little circumstance of a rather peculiar nature. Once
or twice, when it came Pete's turn to deal, he had fancied that he felt a
stir of cold air at the back of his neck; cooler, at least, than the
smoke-laden atmosphere of the card room.
On the third recurrence of this phenomenon Pete glanced carelessly at his
watch before picking up his hand, and saw in the polished back a tiny
reflection from the wall behind him--a small horizontal panel, tilted
transomwise, and a peering face. Pete scanned his hand; when he picked up
his watch to restore it to his pocket, the peering face was gone and the
panel had closed again.
Boland, sitting beside Johnson, saw nothing of this. Neither did the
lumbermen, though they were advantageously situated on the opposite side
of the table. Pete played on, with every sense on the alert. He knocked
over a pile of chips, spilling some on the floor; when he stooped over to
get them, he slipped his gun from his waistband and laid it in his lap.
His curiosity was aroused.
At length, on Dewing's deal, Johnson picked up three kings before the
draw. He sat at Dewing's left; it was his first chance to open the pot;
he passed. Dewing coughed; Johnson felt again that current of cold air on
his neck. "This must be the big mitt," thought Pete. "In a square game
there'd be nothing unusual in passing up three kings for a raise--that is
good poker. But Dewing wants to be sure I've got 'em. Are they going to
slide me four kings? I reckon not. It isn't considered good form to hold
four aces against four kings. They'll slip me a king-full, likely, and
some one will hold an ace-full."
Obligingly Pete spread his three kings fanwise, for the convenience of
the onlooker behind the panel. So doing, he noted that he held the kings
of hearts, spades, and diamonds, with the queen and jack of diamonds. He
slid queen and jack together. "Two aces to go with this hand would give
me a heap of confidence," he thought. "I'm going to take a long chance."
Boland passed; the first lumberman opened the pot; the second stayed;
Dewing stayed; Pete stayed, and raised. Boland passed out; the first
lumberman saw the raise.
"I ought to lift this again; but I won't," announced the lumberman. "I
want to get Scotty's money in this pot, and I might scare him out."
Scotty, the second lumberman, hesitated for a moment, and then laid down
his hand, using language. Dewing saw the raise.
"Here's where I get a cheap draw for the Dead Man's Hand--aces and
eights." He discarded two and laid before him, face up on the table, a
pair of eights and an ace of hearts. "I'm going to trim you fellows this
time. Aces and eights have never been beaten yet."
"Damn you! Here's one eight you won't get," said Scotty; he turned over
his hand, exposing the eight of clubs.
"Mustn't expose your cards unnecessarily," said Dewing reprovingly. "It
spoils the game." He picked up the deck. "Cards?"
Pete pinched his cards to the smallest compass and cautiously discarded
two of them, holding their faces close to the table.
"Give me two right off the top."
Dewing complied.
"Cards to you?" he said. "Next gentleman?"
The next gentleman scowled. "I orter have raised," he said. "Only I
wanted Scotty's money. Now, like as not, somebody'll draw out on me. I'll
play these."
Dewing dealt himself two. Reversing his exposed cards, he shoved between
them the two cards he had drawn and laid these five before him, backs up,
without looking at them.
"It's your stab, Mr. Johnson," said Dewing sweetly.
Johnson skinned his hand slowly and cautiously, covering his cards with
his hands, clipping one edge lightly so that the opposite edges were
slightly separated, and peering between them. He had drawn the joker and
the ace of diamonds. He closed the hand tightly and shoved in a stack.
"Here's where you see aces and eights beaten," he said, addressing
Dewing. "You can't have four eights, 'cause Mr. Scotty done showed one."
The lumberman raised.
"What are you horning in for?" demanded Pete. "I've got you beat. It's
Dewing's hide I'm after."
Dewing looked at his cards and stayed. Pete saw the raise and re-raised.
The lumberman sized up to Pete's raise tentatively, but kept his hand
on his stack of chips; he questioned Pete with his eyes, muttered,
hesitated, and finally withdrew the stack of chips in his hands and
threw up his cards with a curse, exposing a jack-high spade flush.
Dewing's eyes were cold and hard. He saw Pete's raise and raised again,
pushing in two stacks of reds.
"That's more than I've got, but I'll see you as far as my chips hold out.
Wish to Heaven I had a bushel!" Pete sized up his few chips beside
Dewing's tall red stacks. "It's a shame to show this hand for such a
pitiful little bit of money," he said in an aggrieved voice. "What you
got?"
Dewing made no move to turn over his cards.
"If you feel that way about it, old-timer," he said as he raked back his
remainder of unimperiled chips, "you can go down in your pocket."
"Table stakes!" objected Scotty.
"That's all right," said Dewing. "We'll suspend the rules, seeing there's
no one in the pot but Johnson and me. This game, I take it, is going to
break up right now and leave somebody feeling mighty sore. If you're so
sure you've got me beat--dig up!"
"Cash my chips," said Scotty. "I sat down here to play table stakes, and
I didn't come to hear you fellows jaw, either."
"You shut up!" said Dewing. "I'll cash your chips when I play out this
hand--not before. You're not in this."
"Hell; you're both of you scared stiff!" scoffed Scotty. "Neither of you
dast put up a cent."
"Well, Johnson, how about it?" jeered Dewing. "What are you going to do
or take water?"
"Won't there ever be any more hands of poker dealt?" asked Pete. "If I
thought this was to be the last hand ever played, I'd sure plunge right
smart on this bunch of mine."
"Weakening, eh?" sneered Dewing.
"That's enough, Pete," said Boland, very much vexed. "We're playing table
stakes. This is no way to do. Show what you've got and let's get out of
this."
"You let me be!" snapped Pete. "No, Dewing; I'm not weakening. About how
much cash have you got in your roll?"
"About fourteen hundred in the house. More in the bank if you're really
on the peck. And I paid three thousand cash for this place."
"And I've got maybe fifty or sixty dollars with me. You see how it is,"
said Pete. "But I've got a good ranch and a bunch of cattle, if you
happen to know anything about them."
"Pete! Pete! That's enough," urged Boland.
Pete shook him off.
"Mind your own business, will you?" he snapped. "I'm going to show Mr.
Something Dewing how it feels."
The gambler smiled coldly. "Johnson, you're an old blowhard! If you
really want to make a man-size bet on that hand of yours, I'll make you
a proposition."
"Bet on it? Bet on this hand?" snarled Pete, clutching his cards tightly.
"I'd bet everything I've got on this hand."
"We'll see about that. I may be wrong, but I seem to have heard that you
and young Mitchell have found a copper claim that's pretty fair, and a
little over. I believe it, anyhow. And I'm willing to take the risk
that you'll keep your word. I'll shoot the works on this hand--cash, bank
roll, and the joint, against a quarter interest in your mine."
"Son," said Johnson, "I wouldn't sell you one per cent of my share of
that mine for all you've got. Come again!"
The gambler laughed contemptuously. "That's easy enough said," he
taunted. "If you want to wiggle out of it that way, all right!"
Pete raised a finger.
"Not so fast. I don't remember that I've wiggled any yet. I don't want
your money or your saloon. In mentioning my mine you have set an example
of plain speaking which I intend to follow. I do hereby believe that you
can clear Stanley Mitchell of the charge hanging over him. If you can,
I'll bet you a one-quarter interest in our mine against that evidence.
I'll take your word if you'll take mine, and I'll give you twelve hours'
start before I make your confession public.--Boland, you mind your own
business. I'm doing this.--Well, Dewing, how about it?"
"If you think I've got evidence to clear Stanley--"
"I do. I think you did the trick yourself, likely."
"You might as well get one thing in your head, first as last: if I had
any such evidence and made any such a bet--I'd win it! You may be sure of
that. So you'd be no better off so far as getting your pardner out of
trouble is concerned--and you lose a slice of mining property. If you
really think I can give you any such evidence, why not trade me an
interest in the mine for it?"
"I'm not buying, I'm betting! Who's wiggling now?"
"You headstrong, stiff-necked old fool, you've made a bet! I've got the
evidence. Your word against mine?"
"Your word against mine. The bet is made," said Pete. "What have you got?
I called you."
"I've got the Dead Man's Hand--that's all!" Dewing spread out three aces
and a pair of eights, and smiled exasperatingly. "You've got what you
were looking for! I hope you're satisfied now!"
"Yes," said Pete; "I'm satisfied. Let's see you beat this!" He tossed his
cards on the table. "Look at 'em! A royal straight flush in diamonds, and
a gun to back it!" The gun leaped up with a click. "Come through, Dewing!
Your spy may shoot me through that panel behind me; but if he does I'll
bore you through the heart. Boland, you've got a gun. Watch the wall at
my back. If you see a panel open, shoot! Hands on the table, lumbermen!"
"Don't shoot! I'll come through," said Dewing, coolly enough, but
earnestly. "I think you are the devil! Where did you get those cards?"
"Call your man in from that panel. My back itches and so does my trigger
finger."
"What do you think I am--a fool? Nobody's going to shoot you." Dewing
raised his voice: "Come on in, Warren, hands up, before this old idiot
drills me."
"Evidence," remarked Johnson softly, "is what I am after. Evidence! I
have no need of any corpses. Boland, you might go through Mr. Warren and
those other gentlemen for guns. Never mind Dewing; I'll get his gun,
myself, after the testimony. Dewing might play a trick on you if you get
too close. That's right. Pile 'em in the chair. Now, Mr. Dewing--you were
to give some testimony, I believe."
"You'll get it. I robbed Wiley myself. But I'm damned if I tell you any
more till you tell me where you got that hand. I'll swear those are the
cards I dealt you. I never took my eyes off of you."
"Your eyes are all right, son," said Johnson indulgently, "but you made
your play too strong. You showed an ace and two eights. Then, when Mr.
Scotty obliged by flashing another eight, I knowed you was to deal me two
aces for confidence cards and two more to yourself, to make out a full
hand to beat my king-full. So I discarded two kings. Turn 'em over,
Boland. I took a long chance. Drew to the king, queen, and jack of
diamonds. If one of the aces I got in the draw had been either hearts or
black, I'd have lost a little money; and there's an end. As it happened,
I drew the diamond ace and the joker, making ace, king, queen, jack, and
ten--and this poker game is hereby done broke up. I'm ready for the
evidence now."
"You've earned it fair, and you'll get it. I told you I'd not implicate
any one but myself, and I won't. I robbed Wiley so I could saw it off on
Stan. You know why, I guess," said Dewing. "If you'll ask that little
Bobby kid of Jackson Carr's, he'll tell you that Stan lost his spur
beyond Hospital Springs about sunset on the night of the robbery, and
didn't find it again. The three of us rode in together, and the boy can
swear that Stan had only one spur.
"I saw the spur when we were hunting for it; I saw how it would help me
get Stan out of the way; so I said nothing, and I went back that night
and got it. I dropped it near where I held Wiley up, and found it again,
very opportunely, when I came back to Cobre with the posse. Every one
knew that spur; that was how the posse came to search Stan's place.
The rest is easy: I hid the money where it was sure to be found. That's
all I am going to tell you, and that's enough. If it will make you feel
any better about it, though, you may be pleased to know that Bat Wiley
and most of them were acting in good faith."
"That is quite satisfactory. The witness is excused," said Pete. "And
I'll give you twelve hours to leave Tucson before I give out the news."
"Twelve minutes is quite enough, thank you. My address will be Old Mexico
hereafter, and I'll close out the shop by mail. Anything else?"
"Why, yes; you might let me have that gun of yours as a keepsake. No;
I'll get it," said Pete kindly. "You just hold up your hands. Well, we
gotta be going. We've had a pleasant afternoon, haven't we? Good-bye,
gentlemen! Come on, Boland!"
They backed out of the room.