That night, when Smoke took up his customary place at the table, the
keeper shut down the game.
"The game's closed," he said. "Boss's orders."
But the assembled game-owners were not to be balked. In a few minutes
they arranged a pool, each putting in a thousand, and took over the
table.
"Come on and buck us," Harvey Moran challenged, as the keeper sent the
ball on its first whirl around.
"Give me the twenty-five limit," Smoke suggested.
"Sure; go to it."
Smoke immediately placed twenty-five chips on the 'double nought,' and
won.
Moran wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Go on," he said. "We got ten thousand in this bank."
At the end of an hour and a half, the ten thousand was Smoke's.
"The bank's bust," the keeper announced.
"Got enough?" Smoke asked.
The game-owners looked at one another. They were awed. They, the
fatted proteges of the laws of chance, were undone. They were up
against one who had more intimate access to those laws, or who had
invoked higher and undreamed laws.
"We quit," Moran said. "Ain't that right, Burke?"
Big Burke, who owned the games in the M. and G. Saloon, nodded.
"The impossible has happened," he said. "This Smoke here has got a
system all right. If we let him go on we'll all bust. All I can see,
if we're goin' to keep our tables running, is to cut down the limit to
a dollar, or to ten cents, or a cent. He won't win much in a night
with such stakes."
All looked at Smoke. He shrugged his shoulders.
"In that case, gentlemen, I'll have to hire a gang of men to play at
all your tables. I can pay them ten dollars for a four-hour shift and
make money."
"Then we'll shut down our tables," Big Burke replied. "Unless--" He
hesitated and ran his eye over his fellows to see that they were with
him. "Unless you're willing to talk business. What will you sell the
system for?"
"Thirty thousand dollars," Smoke answered. "That's a tax of three
thousand apiece."
They debated and nodded.
"And you'll tell us your system?"
"Surely."
"And you'll promise not to play roulette in Dawson ever again?"
"No, sir," Smoke said positively. "I'll promise not to play this
system again."
"My God!" Moran exploded. "You haven't got other systems, have you?"
"Hold on!" Shorty cried. "I want to talk to my pardner. Come over
here, Smoke, on the side."
Smoke followed into a quiet corner of the room, while hundreds of
curious eyes centred on him and Shorty.
"Look here, Smoke," Shorty whispered hoarsely. "Mebbe it ain't a
dream. In which case you're sellin' out almighty cheap. You've sure
got the world by the slack of its pants. They's millions in it. Shake
it! Shake it hard!"
"But if it's a dream?" Smoke queried softly.
"Then, for the sake of the dream an' the love of Mike, stick them
gamblers up good and plenty. What's the good of dreamin' if you can't
dream to the real right, dead sure, eternal finish?"
"Fortunately, this isn't a dream, Shorty."
"Then if you sell out for thirty thousan', I'll never forgive you."
"When I sell out for thirty thousand, you'll fall on my neck an' wake
up to find out that you haven't been dreaming at all. This is no
dream, Shorty. In about two minutes you'll see you have been wide
awake all the time. Let me tell you that when I sell out it's because
I've got to sell out."
Back at the table, Smoke informed the game-owners that his offer still
held. They proffered him their paper to the extent of three thousand
each.
"Hold out for the dust," Shorty cautioned.
"I was about to intimate that I'd take the money weighed out," Smoke
said.
The owner of the Elkhorn cashed their paper, and Shorty took possession
of the gold-dust.
"Now, I don't want to wake up," he chortled, as he hefted the various
sacks. "Toted up, it's a seventy thousan' dream. It's be too blamed
expensive to open my eyes, roll out of the blankets, an' start
breakfast."
"What's your system?" Big Burke demanded. "We've paid for it, and we
want it."
Smoke led the way to the table.
"Now, gentlemen, bear with me a moment. This isn't an ordinary system.
It can scarcely be called legitimate, but its one great virtue is that
it works. I've got my suspicious, but I'm not saying anything. You
watch. Mr Keeper, be ready with the ball. Wait, I am going to pick
'26.' Consider I've bet on it. Be ready, Mr Keeper--Now!"
The ball whirled around.
"You observe," Smoke went on, "that '9' was directly opposite."