One fine Saturday afternoon a young man got off the 9:10 p.m. Katy
train at the Houston depot, and looked about him in rather a
bewildered way. He was deliriously pastoral in his appearance, and
presented an aspect almost as rural as that of the young countryman
upon the stage as depicted by our leading comedians. He wore a very
long black coat of the cut that has perpetuated the name of the late
Prince Albert, such as is seen on Sundays at country churches, a pair
of pantaloons too short for his somewhat lengthy limbs, and a
wondrously tied scarf of deep crimson spotted with green. His face was
smoothly shaven, and wore a look of deep wonder, if not apprehension,
and his blue eyes were stretched to their widest as he viewed the
sights about him. In his hand he carried a long carpet bag of the old
style, made of some shiny substance resembling black oil cloth.
This young gentleman climbed nervously upon an electric car that was
pointed out to him as going into the center of the city, and held his
carpet bag upon his knees, clasping it with both hands, as if he
distrusted the other people upon the car.
As the car started again with a loud hum and scattering of sparks, he
grasped the arm of the seat in such a startled way that the conductor
could not repress a smile.
When the young man was approached for his fare, he opened the carpet
bag, pulling out a lot of socks and handkerchiefs, and after searching
for some time drew forth an old-fashioned beaded purse from which he
drew a nickel and handed it to the conductor.
When the car arrived at Main Street the young man requested that it be
stopped, and climbed off. He wandered up the side walk, stopping to
look with awe and admiration in the jewelers' windows, and his long
boot heels and awkward, mincing gait caused much amusement to
passersby.
Then it was that a well-dressed gentleman wearing a handsome light
Melton overcoat happened to pass, and his beautiful Malacca
gold-headed cane accidentally touched the elbow of the verdant-looking
young man.
"I beg a thousand pardons," said the well-dressed gentleman.
"It's all right, pardner," said the young man with a friendly smile.
"You ain't done no damage. You can't faze a Texas cow man with no
plaything like that. Don't mention it."
The well-dressed man bowed, and went leisurely on his way. The young
man stumbled on up Main Street to a corner, then turned in an aimless
way to the right and walked another block. There he looked up and saw
the illuminated clock in the market house tower, and drawing from his
vest pocket an immense silver watch fully as large as a saucer, he
wound it up with a key and set its hands with the clock in the tower.
While he was doing this a well-dressed gentleman carrying a
gold-headed Malacca cane slipped past and walked softly down the shady
side of the street, stopped in a deep shadow and seemed to be waiting
for someone.
About fifteen minutes later the young man entered a restaurant on
Congress Street and took his seat timidly at a table. He drew another
chair close to his side and deposited carefully therein his carpet
bag. Five minutes later a well-dressed man with a gold-headed Malacca
cane entered in a great hurry and after hanging up his silk hat,
seated himself, almost out of breath, at the same table. Then, looking
up, he recognized the young man whom he had seen gazing in the
jeweler's window, and smiling pleasantly remarked:
"Ah, we meet again, sir. I have just had a most exhausting race to
catch a train. You see, I am the paymaster of the Southern Pacific
Railway Company, and am on my way to pay off the hands down the road.
I missed my train by about three minutes. It's very awkward, too, as I
have nearly two thousand dollars on my person, and I am entirely
unacquainted in Houston."
"Dod gast it, colonel," said the young man, "I'm in the same fix. I'm
just getting back from Kansas City, where I sold a drove of
two-year-olds, and I haven't had time to do anything with the money.
You beat me on the amount, though; I ain't got but $900."
The well-dressed gentleman took a large roll of bills from his pocket,
skinned off one with which to pay for his supper, and returned the
rest carefully to the inside pocket of his coat.
"We seem to be about in the same situation, indeed," he said. "I very
much dislike to carry so much money on my person all night. Suppose we
form a mutual protection society, and in the meantime walk about and
see what sights there are to be seen in town."
At first the young man appeared suddenly suspicious at this
proposition, and became coldly reserved, but gradually thawed under
the frank and unassuming politeness of the well-dressed man, and when
that gentleman insisted upon paying for both suppers, his doubts
seemed to vanish, and he became not only confidential, but actually
loquacious. He informed the well-dressed man that his name was
Simmons, that he owned a nice little ranch in Encinal County, and that
this was his first trip out of Texas. The well-dressed man said his
name was Clancy, called "Captain" by his friends, that he lived in
Dallas, and was a member of the Young Men's Christian Association at
that place. He handed Mr. Simmons a card on which was printed "Captain
Richard Saxon Clancy," and below was scribbled somewhat hastily in
pencil, "With M. K. & T. Ry. Co."
* * * * *
"Now," said Mr. Simmons, when they had finished supper, "I'm sorter
shy about proposin' it, you bein' a stranger, but I'm in for havin' a
glass of beer. If you don't like the scheme, why, excuse me, and don't
think hard of me for suggestin' it."
Captain Chancy smiled indulgently. "Have a care," he said, in a
sprightly bantering tone. "Remember, you and I must take care of
ourselves tonight. I am responsible to the railroad company for the
funds I have, and besides, I rarely ever touch beer--well, I guess one
glass won't hurt me."
Mr. Simmons opened the carpet bag and after some search found the bead
purse, from which he drew a dime, and suggested the immediate
investment of it. Captain Clancy remembered to have heard a friend say
that there was a quiet saloon on--let's see, what street was it?
After some hesitation and search they came upon a place with swinging
doors where a light was hanging outside, and the captain suggested
that they could probably get a glass of beer within. They entered and
found themselves before a gorgeous bar, ablaze with lights and
mirrors, at which lounged five or six men of a rather rough and
night-owlish appearance.
Mr. Simmons called for two glasses of beer, and when they had drunk it
he laid his dime upon the counter.
"Wot's eatin' you?" said the bartender. "They is two for. Cough up
some more right away once."
"See here," said Mr. Simmons, "beer is 5 cents a glass everywheres.
Don't you take me for no country jay."
Captain Clancy whispered that they had better pay what was asked than
get into a difficulty. "It seems a rough sort of place," he said, "and
you must remember it won't do to endanger ourselves while we have our
money about us. Let me pay the 15 cents additional."
"No, you don't," said Mr. Simmons. "I guess when I treat I foot the
whole bill." He went down into the carpet bag again and brought forth
three more nickels.
Just then an orchestra near at hand struck up in a lively air, and Mr.
Simmons turned to look whence it came.
The bartender winked at Captain Clancy and said softly:
"Struck it rich, eh, Jimmy, old boy?"
"Think it will pay," said the captain, as softly, closing his left eye
at the bartender.
"Say," said Mr. Simmons, "whatever have you got in there?" pointing in
the direction of the music.
"Finest high-class musical and dramatic entertainment in the South,"
said the bartender. "Refined and elevatin' specialties by
distinguished artists. Walk in, gents."
"It's a play show, by gum," said Mr. Simmons. "Shall we go in?"
"I don't like the looks of the place much," said Captain Clancy, "but
let's have a look at it, anyhow, to pass away the time; let's see,
it's just half past ten; we can look on a while and then go up to the
hotel and get to bed by eleven-thirty. Let me pay for tickets."
"All right," said Mr. Simmons, "I paid for the beer."
The bartender pointed out the way through a little hallway, where they
entered another door and found a very glib gentleman who persuaded
them to buy tickets that admitted them upstairs. They ascended and
found themselves in the family circle of a little theater. There were
about twenty or thirty men and boys scattered about among the seats,
and the performance seemed quite well under way. On the stage a very
exaggerated Irishman was chasing a very exaggerated negro with an ax,
while a soubrettish young lady dressed in a ruffle and blue tights
stood upon a barrel and screamed something in a high, cracked voice.
* * * * *
"I shouldn't like it if there should happen to be anyone downstairs
that knows me," said the captain. "Suppose we take one of these
boxes." They went into a little box, screened from view by soiled
cheap lace curtains, containing four or five chairs and a little table
with little rings all over it made by the bottoms of wet glasses.
Mr. Simmons was delighted with the performance. He laughed
unrestrainedly at the jokes of the comedian, and leaned half out of
the box to applaud when the DeVere sisters did their song and dance
and split specialty. Captain Clancy leaned back in his chair and
hardly looked at the stage, but on his face was an expression of large
content, and a tranquil smile. Mr. Simmons kept the carpet bag in both
hands all this time. Presently, while he was listening with apparent
rapture to a topical song by Mlle. Fanchon, the Parisian nightingale,
he felt a hand laid on his shoulder. He turned about and beheld a
vision that seemed to take away his breath. Two radiant beings in
white, with blue ribbons, and showing quite a stretch of black ribbed
stockings were in the box. Mr. Simmons hugged his carpet bag to his
breast and started up in embarrassed alarm.
"Don't shy, old man," said one of them. "Sit down and buy some beer."
Mr. Simmons seemed so full of blushes and perturbation for a while
that he scarcely knew what he was doing, but Captain Clancy seemed so
cool and easy, and began to chat so companionably with the ladies that
he presently took courage, and the next quarter of an hour found the
four seated opposite one another at the little table, and a colored
waiter was kept busy bringing bottles of beer from the bar and
carrying away empty glasses. Mr. Simmons grew absolutely hilarious. He
told funny stories about ranch life, and spoke quite boastingly about
the gay times he had had in Kansas City during the three days he was
there.
"Oh, you're a bold, bad man," said one of the young ladies, called
Violet. "If Lillie and Jim--I mean your friend, wasn't in here I'd be
real 'fraid of you."
"Go way, now," said Mr. Simmons; "you know I ain't nothin' of that
sort. Bring some more beer there, you colored feller!"
The party certainly were enjoying themselves. Presently Violet leaned
over the railing and called Mr. Simmons' attention to a lady that was
singing on the stage. Mr. Simmons turned his back, and as he did so
Captain Clancy quickly drew from his pocket a small vial and poured
the contents into the glass of beer on Mr. Simmons' side of the waiter
that had just been brought in.
"Here, you all," called the lady addressed as Lillie, "the beer's
getting cold." Mr. Simmons and Violet turned back to the table, and
Mr. Simmons accidentally stumbled over his carpet bag, which he had
actually set down for a moment upon the floor. He fell sprawling
across the table, striking the edge of the waiter with his hand and
nearly turning Captain Clancy over in his chair, but spilling none of
the beer.
"Excuse me," he said, turning very red. "Got my foot caught. I'm as
awkward as a cowboy at a dance. Well, here's luck."
Everybody drank the beer, and Lillie began to hum a little song. In
about a minute Violet reeled around in her chair and tumbled off on
the floor in a confused heap of white muslin, blondined hair and black
stockings.
Captain Clancy seemed much vexed. He shot a steel blue flash from his
eyes at Lillie and said something very much like "d--n it" to himself.
"Great heavens!" cried Mr. Simmons, "this lady has fainted. Call a
doctor, or get some water or somethin' quick."
"Say," said Lillie, lighting a cigarette, "don't get woozy. She'll
sleep it off. You gents get out for a while. Say, J-Mister, tell the
bartender to send Sam up as you go out. Good night."
"We had better go," said the captain.
Mr. Simmons, with many protestations of sympathy and anxiety, was led
away by Captain Clancy downstairs, where he delivered the message, and
thence out into the cool night air.
He was feeling pretty strongly the effects of the beer he had drunk,
and leaned heavily upon the captain's arm. Captain Clancy assured him
that the lady would be all right in a little while, that she had
merely drunk a little too much beer, which had affected her rather
suddenly, and succeeded in restoring Mr. Simmons to his former
cheerful spirits.
"It is not yet half past eleven," said the captain. "How would you
like to go up into one of the gambling rooms just to look on a while?
It is a very interesting sight."
"Just the thing," said Mr. Simmons. "They are not new things to me at
all. Twice I have been in 'em in San Antone. Saw a feller win $18 one
night in this game you play with little buttons on little boards."
"Keno, I believe," said the captain. "Yes, that's it--keno."
* * * * *
I shall not undertake to describe the locality of the apartments to
which our visitors next went. Gambling houses are almost unknown in
Houston, and as this is a true story, the attempt to give a definite
location to such an institution in a city of the well known morality
of Houston would meet with incredulity. Neither is it clear how they
managed to find such a place, both of them being strangers, but by
some accidental blunder, Captain Clancy led Mr. Simmons up a brightly
lighted and carpeted stair into a large apartment, where a goodly
crowd of men were gathered, trying their luck at the different games
usually found in a well appointed gambling house.
The stairway opened into the room nearly at the end farthest from the
street. Immediately in front of the two gentlemen when they entered
was a room in which were two or three round tables and chairs, at that
time unoccupied.
Captain Clancy and Mr. Simmons walked about the larger room for a
while, gazing upon the players as they won or lost in the vicissitudes
and fortunes of the games. The men in the room viewed Mr. Simmons with
ill-concealed hilarity. His carpet bag seemed to create a vast deal of
merriment, and every man in the room, while betraying much amusement,
still gazed upon him with longing and hungry eyes, as upon some choice
tit-bit upon which they fain would feast.
One fat man with a dyed mustache nudged Captain Clancy in the side and
said:
"Gad! Jimmy, can't you let me in on it?"
The captain frowned and the fat man moved away with a sigh. Mr.
Simmons was interested almost to excitement. Presently he said:
"Say, I don't know how it will strike you, cap'n, but I guess I must
have some sportin' blood in me. Now, I don't gamble, but I'm the
darnedest checker player in Southwest Texas. Let's go in that other
room, and I'll play you some checkers and the man what loses buys a
glass of beer for both of us."
"Now, Mr. Simmons," said the captain, raising a warning finger and
smiling. "Remember our mutual protection society. I don't like this
place at all. We had better be out of it. However, I used to be the
crack checker and croquet player in our Young Men's Christian
Association--just a game or two, now."
They played a game or two, and then they played half a dozen more. The
captain won every game. Mr. Simmons was much vexed. He grew very red
in the face as his reputation as a checker player began to vanish.
"Confound it," he said, "I'm out 70 cents. Gimmie a chance to get
even. I'd give it to you if I was ahead."
"Why, certainly," said the captain, "but checkers is rather tiresome.
Some other way suit you? Let's have in a deck of cards and play a few
hands until you get even."
"Any way," said Mr. Simmons. His hat was on the back of his head; his
light-blue eyes were blinking and somewhat unsteady. His red and green
spotted tie was almost under one ear. He sat with the black carpet bag
in his lap, and his checked trousers had drawn half way up to his
knees.
"What, oh, what," said the captain softly, to himself, "have I done to
deserve this manna descending to me in the wilderness; this good thing
dropping into my hands as if it were greased; this great big soft snap
coming my way without a ripple. It's too good to be true."
The captain struck a little bell and a waiter brought a deck of cards.
"Let's call it poker," said the captain. Mr. Simmons rose to his feet.
"That's a gambling game," he said severely. "I ain't no gambler."
"Neither am I, Mr. Simmons," said the captain with a sudden dignity
and a trifle of a frown. "A game of poker for insignificant stakes
between gentlemen is entirely allowable in the circles in which I have
moved, and any institution--"
"Oh, dang it all," said Mr. Simmons, "I didn't mean anything. I've
played some on the ranch with the boys of nights for grains of corn.
Deal 'em out."
* * * * *
The old story of the hawk and the pigeon has been told so often that
the details are apt to weary. From a stake of 10 cents they rose to 50
cents and a dollar. Mr. Simmons won, of course. He had taken the bead
purse out of his bag and therefrom abstracted certain silver dollars,
and later on, $25 in bills. Once he held up a package from the carpet
bag tied with a string and winked at the captain.
"That's the nine hundred," he said.
The captain won a pot occasionally, but the bulk of the money was
going to Mr. Simmons, who was jubilant but sympathetic.
"You're out of luck," he said jollily, but thickly. He was
considerably under the influence of the beer he had drunk, to all
appearances. The captain looked worried and anxious.
"That's nearly all my expense money," he said moodily. "I say,
Simmons, take off the limit and give a feller a chance to get even."
"What's that?" asked Mr. Simmons. "You mean bet any amount we please?"
"Yes."
"Let 'er go," said Mr. Simmons. "Shay, zis beer (hic) make'm me
shorter shick."
Mr. Simmons seemed to play a very loose game, and his luck began to
desert him. He lost a large portion of his winnings on an ace full,
and had several fine hands beaten. In a little while his velvet was
gone and the next hand lost him all his little capital. He grew more
deeply flushed, and his round light eyes shone with an excited stare.
He once more opened the black carpet bag, took out his pocket knife
and put both hands inside. The captain heard him cut the string of the
package and out came the hands grasping a mass of fives, tens and
twenties. The carpet bag still kept its place in his lap.
"Bring 'sh s'm beer," said Mr. Simmons, loudly. "Jolly f'ler ze
captain. Play'm all night 'f wanter. 'M a little full, but bes'
checker 'n poker player 'n Encinal County. Deal 'em."
* * * * *
Captain Richard Saxon Clancy, paymaster (?) of the M. K. & T. Railway
Company, drew himself together, his time had come. The manna was about
to descend. The pigeon was already fluttering in his talons. The
victim was in exactly the right stage of drunkenness; enough to be
reckless and not too observant, but not too much so to prevent his
playing the game.
The captain coughed rather loudly. One or two men strolled in from the
other room and watched the game silently. The captain coughed again. A
pale young man with gloomy eyes and an unhealthy-looking face lounged
around somewhat back of Mr. Simmons' chair, and listlessly looked on.
Every time a hand was dealt or a draw made, he would scratch his ear,
touch his nose, pull his mustache or play with a button on his vest.
It was strange to see how much the captain watched this young man, who
certainly had nothing to do with the game.
Still the captain won. When Mr. Simmons won a pot it was sure to be a
small one.
The captain thought the time ripe for his coup de grace. He struck the
bell, and the waiter came.
"Bring a fresh deck, Mike," he said, "these are getting worn." Mr.
Simmons was too confused to notice that the captain, a stranger in the
city, called the waiter familiarly by his given name.
The captain dealt the cards, and Mr. Simmons cut them in an awkward
and bungling way. Then the fatal hand was dealt. It was the captain's
favorite. Four kings and the seven of spades to his opponent, four
aces and the deuce of diamonds to himself. Any other cards would do as
well as the spade and the diamond, but the captain had a weakness for
those two cards.
He noticed the ill-concealed pleasure on the face of Mr. Simmons as he
gazed at his hand. Mr. Simmons stood pat; the captain drew one card.
The young man behind Mr. Simmons' chair had moved away. It was no
longer necessary for him to scratch his ear and touch his vest button.
He knew the captain's coup de grace as well as he himself.
Mr. Simmons clutched his cards tightly in his hand and tried in vain
to conceal his eagerness. The captain examined the new card he had
drawn with exaggerated anxiety, and heaved a sigh that intended to
convey to Mr. Simmons the information that he had made his hand good.
The betting began. Mr. Simmons threw in his money feverishly and
quickly; the captain saw each bet, and raised only after affected deep
deliberation. Mr. Simmons raised back gleefully, drunkenly and
confidently. When the pot contained about $200 the captain's brows
went together, and two faint lines traced themselves from his nostrils
to the corners of his mouth, and he made a raise of a hundred. Mr.
Simmons laid his hand down carefully on the table and went down in his
carpet bag again. This time he drew out two $500 bills and laid them
on top of the pot.
"I'm goin' busted on this hand," said Mr. Simmons. "'F I didn't zhe
boys 'n Encinal County 'd run me out for a coward. Whoop 'em up,
cap'n."
"Send Charlie over here," said Captain Clancy to one of the
bystanders. The fat man with the dyed mustache came over and whispered
with the captain. Then he went away and came back with a stack of gold
and bills and counted out the thousand dollars to call Mr. Simmons'
bet.
"I call," said the captain.
Then a queer thing happened.
Mr. Simmons rose lightly to his feet, spread his hand face upward upon
the table, and with the same arm movement swept the pile of money into
his capacious carpet bag.
With bulging eyes and a sulphurous oath the captain looked for the
four kings and the seven of spades he had dealth Mr. Simmons. What he
saw was a queen high straight heart flush.
The captain made a spring, and the pale gentlemen standing about each
took one cat-like step towards Mr. Simmons and then stopped. As the
money went into the carpet bag there came out a blue-barreled
six-shooter that now shone ominously in Mr. Simmons' hand, and they
looked into its barrel.
Mr. Simmons gave one lightning glance to his rear and then backed
towards the door.
"Don't make any mistake," he said. There was a blue gleam in his eyes
exactly the color of the shining metal of his weapon.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I invite you all when in New York to call at my
joint, at 2508 Bowery. Ask for Diamond Joe, and you'll see me. I'm
going into Mexico for two weeks to see after my mining plants and I'll
be at home any time after then. Upstairs, 2508 Bowery; don't forget
the number. I generally make my traveling expenses as I go. Good
night."
Mr. Simmons backed quickly out and disappeared.
Five minutes later Captain Richard Saxon Clancy, paymaster (?) for the
M. K. & T. Railway Company, and member (?) of the Dallas Young Men's
Christian Association, alias "Jimmy," stood at a corner bar and said:
"Whiskey, old man, and--say get a bigger glass than that, will you? I
need it."
(_Houston Daily Post_, Sunday morning, April 12, 1896.)