The next morning a visitor came to the cabin. Smoke knew him, Harvey
Moran, the owner of all the games in the Tivoli. There was a note of
appeal in his deep gruff voice as he plunged into his business.
"It's like this, Smoke," he began. "You've got us all guessing. I'm
representing nine other game-owners and myself from all the saloons in
town. We don't understand. We know that no system ever worked against
roulette. All the mathematic sharps in the colleges have told us
gamblers the same thing. They say that roulette itself is the system,
the one and only system, and, therefore, that no system can beat it,
for that would mean arithmetic has gone bug-house."
Shorty nodded his head violently.
"If a system can beat a system, then there's no such thing as system,"
the gambler went on. "In such a case anything could be possible--a
thing could be in two different places at once, or two things could be
in the same place that's only large enough for one at the same time."
"Well, you've seen me play," Smoke answered defiantly; "and if you
think it's only a string of luck on my part, why worry?"
"That's the trouble. We can't help worrying. It's a system you've
got, and all the time we know it can't be. I've watched you five
nights now, and all I can make out is that you favour certain numbers
and keep on winning. Now the ten of us game-owners have got together,
and we want to make a friendly proposition. We'll put a roulette table
in a back room of the Elkhorn, pool the bank against you, and have you
buck us. It will be all quiet and private. Just you and Shorty and
us. What do you say?"
"I think it's the other way around," Smoke answered. "It's up to you
to come and see me. I'll be playing in the bar-room of the Elkhorn
to-night. You can watch me there just as well."