"Don't crowd your luck," Shorty pleaded with Smoke, the next night, in
the cabin, as he evidenced preparations to return to the Elkhorn. "You
played a mighty long string of hunches, but you played it out. If you
go back you'll sure drop all your winnings."
"But I tell you it isn't hunches, Shorty. It's statistics. It's a
system. It can't lose."
"System be damned. They ain't no such a thing as system. I made
seventeen straight passes at a crap table once. Was it system? Nope.
It was fool luck, only I had cold feet an' didn't dast let it ride. It
it'd rid, instead of me drawin' down after the third pass, I'd a won
over thirty thousan' on the original two-bit piece."
"Just the same, Shorty, this is a real system."
"Huh! You got to show me."
"I did show you. Come on with me now and I'll show you again."
When they entered the Elkhorn, all eyes centred on Smoke, and those
about the table made way for him as he took up his old place at the
keeper's end. His play was quite unlike that of the previous night. In
the course of an hour and a half he made only four bets, but each bet
was for twenty-five dollars, and each bet won. He cashed in
thirty-five hundred dollars, and Shorty carried the dust home to the
cabin.
"Now's the time to jump the game," Shorty advised, as he sat on the
edge of his bunk and took off his moccasins. "You're seven thousan'
ahead. A man's a fool that'd crowd his luck harder."
"Shorty, a man would be a blithering lunatic if he didn't keep on
backing a winning system like mine."
"Smoke, you're a sure bright boy. You're college-learnt. You know
more'n a minute than I could know in forty thousan' years. But just
the same you're dead wrong when you call your luck a system. I've ben
around some, an' seen a few, an' I tell you straight an' confidential
an' all-assurin', a system to beat a bankin' game ain't possible."
"But I'm showing you this one. It's a pipe."
"No, you're not, Smoke. It's a pipe-dream. I'm asleep. Bime by I'll
wake up, an' build the fire, an' start breakfast."
"Well, my unbelieving friend, there's the dust. Heft it."
So saying, Smoke tossed the bulging gold-sack upon his partner's knees.
It weighed thirty-five pounds, and Shorty was fully aware of the crush
of its impact on his flesh.
"It's real," Smoke hammered his point home.
"Huh! I've saw some mighty real dreams in my time. In a dream all
things is possible. In real life a system ain't possible. Now, I
ain't never ben to college, but I'm plum justified in sizin' up this
gamblin' orgy of ourn as a sure enough dream."
"Hamilton's 'Law of Parsimony,'" Smoke laughed.
"I ain't never heard of the geezer, but his dope's sure right. I'm
dreamin', Smoke, an' you're just snoopin' around in my dream an'
tormentin' me with system. If you love me, if you sure do love me,
you'll just yell, 'Shorty! Wake up!' An' I'll wake up an' start
breakfast."