keeper an’ tells him to go over to the hotel an’ get the manual out of
his portmanteau. ‘The code is in that,’ he says. So the keeper he
starts, an’ the boys cut for deal accordin’ to custom, an’ Jake gets it.
He shuffles an’ offers the deck to Pearsall, who sits on his right, to
cut, but Hapgood speaks up an’ says that ain’t right. ‘The ante man is
the man that cuts the cards,’ he says. ‘I don’t know as it makes any
great difference,’ he says, ‘who cuts ’em, but that’s what the book
says.’
“Winterbottom, he’s gettin’ a little bit old, an’ he’s kind o’ sot in
his ways, an’ I c’d see that he was gettin’ sort o’ rattled, but before
he c’d say anything, Bassett, he spoke up again. ‘It don’t really make
no difference, I reckon,’ he says, ‘but if the book says that the ante
man must cut, why, he’s goin’ to cut. On’y you see, stranger, we hain’t
familiar with that book an’ we been in the habit o’ lettin’ the feller
on the dealer’s right cut the cards. It’s on’y our ignorance, you know.
We’re willin’ to learn better.’ An’ he, bein’ the age himself, reaches
over and cuts the cards.
“Jake, he kind o’ shakes his head a little, but he don’t say nothin’ an’
he starts to deal, but Hapgood he speaks up again. ‘Before we start,’ he
says, ‘we must have it understood whether we are going to play any of
the variations in the game. We play straights, don’t we, and straight
flushes?’
“‘Oh, yes,’ says Bassett.
“‘And straights beat three of a kind, don’t they?’
“‘Well, yes,’ says Bassett, ‘they commonly do, when you get ’em.’
“‘And blazers, do we play them, and jumpers? And do we play with a
joker?’
“Bassett was puzzled for a moment, an’ before he could get started
Winterbottom busted loose. ‘No!’ he hollered, just like he were mad.
‘No, we don’t play with a joker, nor big an’ little casino, nor right
and left bower, nor his nobs, nor his heels. We play draw-poker. An’ we
don’t play blazers nor jumpers, because we don’t know what they are and
we don’t care a darn. We wouldn’t play them if we did know.’
“‘Well, well,’ says Hapgood, ‘that’s all right. I only asked because
they’re in the book, and we have to know, you know, before we play, you
know.’
“‘Well, we know,’ growled Jake and he started to deal again. While he
was dealing Bassett put up his ante an’ Hapgood, who set next, he says,
‘I straddle,’ an’ throws in two chips. That makes it four to play, an’
Blaisdell he throws down his cards. Pearsall comes in an’ so does
Winterbottom. Bassett makes good an’ Hapgood raises it eight. They was
playin’ table stakes.
“Pearsall, havin’ next say, he says, ‘I raise you eight,’ an’ shoves up
his chips.
“‘Oh!’ says Hapgood, speakin’ up quick. ‘Then you don’t play the
doublin’ game?’
“‘What in thunder is the doublin’ game?’ says Pearsall.
“‘Why you can’t raise less than double what the last bet was,’ says
Hapgood.
“‘Is that in the book?’ asked Bassett, sudden like.
“‘Yes,’ says Hapgood.
“‘Then we play it,’ says Bassett very determined.
“‘Well,’ says Pearsall, ‘I raise you sixteen chips.’
“Winterbottom he studies for a minute an’ he says, ‘I’ll come in,’ but
he says it kind o’ slow.
“It were Bassett’s turn next, an’ he says, ‘I raise it thirty-two
chips.’
“Things was gettin’ interestin’ about then. It were quick poker even
for Arkansas City, an’ I looked to see some layin’ down, but they all
had pretty good cards as it happened an’ they all made good. In the draw
Bassett took one card, Hapgood took two, Pearsall stood pat, an’
Winterbottom took two.
“Then they all waited for a minute or so, an’ finally Winterbottom says
to Hapgood, ‘It’s your bet.’
“‘Oh, no,’ says Hapgood, ‘it isn’t my bet, I straddled.’
“‘Well, what in blue blazes has that got to do with it?’ says Pearsall.
“‘Why, if I straddled I get the age,’ says Hapgood, an’ the boys was
struck dumb for a minute or so.
“Finally, Bassett he caught his breath, an’ he says, ‘Is that in the
book?’
“‘Why, certainly,’ says Hapgood, an’ just then his keeper come in with
the book in his hand. It was a monstrous pretty little red book, too,
with a fancy cover an’ gilt edges on the leaves.
“Well, Bassett he were gettin’ sort o’ weak by this time, but he managed
to say, ‘I ain’t doubtin’ your word, stranger, but this here is kind o’
strong liquor for us. We ain’t used to it. Don’t you think you’re
mistaken? Do you think that any man that knowed enough about poker to
write a book about it would put that in?’
“‘Well, it’s right here,’ says Hapgood, opening the book. ‘It’s law 44
in the International Code. You’ll see it on page 100. It says: “The
straddle transfers the age from the ante man to the straddler,”’ and he
read it and showed it.
“The boys looked at one another for a little, as if nobody could say
anything, an’ I reckon they couldn’t right away, but finally Bassett he
spoke up, an’ he says: ‘We’ve started to play this here game accordin’
to the rules, an’ I reckon we’d better see it through for one deal,
anyhow. Pearsall, it’s your bet.’
“Pearsall he looked kind o’ faint, but he throwed in a chip, an’
Winterbottom seed it, an’ Bassett he come in, an’ Hapgood he raised it
ten. Then the boys seen their duty, an’ they done it for fair. The chips
was a dollar, an’ Pearsall he raised it twenty, an’ Winterbottom he
raised it forty, an’ Bassett he raised it eighty, makin’ about half a
million dollars on the table. Hapgood he throwed down his cards, an’
Pearsall an’ Winterbottom did likewise, so nobody found out what anybody
had.
“The next deal was about the same story, on’y they all come in, an’
after they’d coaxed Hapgood along till he’d put up a fair-sized stake,
they doubled upon him four times instead of three, an’ he throwed down
again.
“That brought it up to Hapgood’s deal, an’ I reckon he must ha’ been a
little rattled, seein’ how he wa’n’t likely to get much of a show, for
instead o’ dealin’ cards to all five players he on’y dealt out four
hands. O’ course, they all seen what he was doin’, but they kind o’
watched him to see if it wa’n’t some new sort of a trick out o’ that
book o’ his’n, an’ when he finished nobody moved to pick up his cards.
An’ still Hapgood didn’t seem to notice nothin’ out o’ the way, so
Bassett spoke up very mild an’ subdued like, ‘Ain’t that a misdeal,
stranger? You haven’t dealt Winterbottom any cards. He’s in the game,
ain’t he?’
“Then Hapgood seen what he’d done an’ picked up the deck again. ‘Oh,
no,’ he says, ‘it ain’t a misdeal. I’ll give him a hand,’ and he dealt
him one card off the top of the deck, another off the bottom, the next
off the top, the next off the bottom, and the next and last off the top.
“Then Winterbottom turned to me an’ says: ‘Greenhut, I wish you’d bring
me a drink o’ red liquor. I think I’m going to faint.’ I brought it to
him quick, for he did look pale, an’ he ain’t as young as he was. After
he’d swallowed it he says to Hapgood: ‘What in blue blazes is that sort
o’ monkey business you was just puttin’ up? Is there anything in that
extraordinary thing you call a book that says for you to do a thing like
that?’
“‘Why, certainly,’ says Hapgood. ‘You’ll find it in law 34 of the
International Code, on page 98. “If too few hands have been dealt or a
player has been omitted, the dealer shall supply the omission by dealing
the necessary number of cards alternately from the top and bottom of
the pack.” There it is. You can read it for yourself.’
“And he handed the book to Jake. Jake took it and looked at it curiously
while the rest of us looked over his shoulders. The rule was there and
so were the other things he told us about. And the book was published by
some firm in London and another firm in New York. It looked like a sure
enough book. It even had the author’s name printed as Templar. I was
almost stunned. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Neither could the
rest of the boys for a few minutes, but finally Jake handed the book
back to Hapgood an’ he says, mighty serious like, ‘I don’t find no fault
with you, stranger. You mean well, an’ I don’t reckon you’re the man
that wrote this book, but I want to give you a little good advice. If
you’re thinkin’ o’ playin’ poker much while you’re in the country, an’
think o’ takin’ that book along with you, the best thing you can do is
to take out an all-fired big policy o’ life insurance. Your heirs, if
you have any, is liable to get rich monstrous sudden that way. As for
me, I think I’ll cash in. I’m open to play draw-poker at any time, but
this here game is too rich for my blood.’
“An’ that broke up the game. I don’t know whether they really do play
any such poker as that book tells about in the East, but ’tain’t never
likely to be played in this country. It does beat all how some folks can
get things printed, but I remember hearing it said once that it stood to
reason that nobody would ever write a book on how to play poker if he
knowed, ’cause if he knowed he’d play enough not to need to write for a
livin’.”
XIX
ONLY ONE SURE WAY TO WIN
“‘Pears to me,” said old man Greenhut, as he leaned his elbows on the
bar and pulled viciously at a very black cigar to keep it alight, “like
there was a monstrous lot o’ foolishness talked about the game o’
draw-poker. Fellers’ll tell you with tears in their mouth about gettin’
beat at the game an’ about the hard mess of luck they have an’ how some
other player’ll always hold over ’em or pull out against their pat
flushes an’ wipe up the floor with ’em when they’d oughter have the pot
cinched according to all laws. Oh, there ain’t no end to hard luck
stories. They’re thicker than cold molasses, but there hain’t no sense
into ’em. O’ course, a man may get hit hard now an’ again when he ain’t
lookin’ for it--he may get kicked by a mule sometimes when he thinks
he’s out o’ the mule’s reach; but a man that gets kicked all the time is
either a jackass or else he don’t know mules.
“So with poker. No man that knows poker is goin’ to get beat at it all
the time, an’ the man that does get beat nine times out o’ ten beats
hisself. ’Tain’t the other fellers’ play half as much as it is takin’
fool chances that makes men walk home ’stead o’ takin’ the cars. There’s
a heap o’ talk about one man playin’ better poker than another man, but
my experience tells me that the principal trouble is not that one man
plays better than another, but that one man don’t play so well as
another. An’ it stands to reason that when a man don’t play as well as
the other feller he’s goin’ to beat hisself.
“There was Jake Winterbottom,” continued the old man, as he straightened
himself up and walked around to his favourite seat by the window.
Winterbottom wasn’t in the room at the time, or probably Greenhut would
not have mentioned him by name.
“There was Jake Winterbottom. Jake is a powerful good player now, an’ I
reckon he can hold his end up in the most select circles. He’s played
steady with the best talent of Arkansas City for a good many years, an’
any man that can do that don’t have to have no trepidation about settin’
in with the best of ’em.
“But I remember the time when Jake was about the easiest proposition
there was to be found all up an’ down the river. ’Peared like there
wa’n’t no possible way o’ losin’ money at the game that he hadn’t
studied out an’ practised till he had ’em all down pat. He c’d lay down
three of a kind against aces up with the same monotonous regularity that
he’d bet a straight against a full. An’ he didn’t have no sense about
the draw. He’d pull for a flush every time he got four of a suit, an’
sometimes when he had only three, no matter what the odds was in the
bettin’. An’ when he did happen to have the winnin’ hand, if he bet it
at all, which he wouldn’t half the time, he never got nothin’ to speak
of out of it.
“I used to reason with him. There wa’n’t no reason as I know on why I
should, for he wa’n’t nothin’ to me, more’n a fair, average customer,
but somehow or other I allus cottoned to Jake f’m the time he struck the
town till he’d come to be recognized as one o’ the leadin’ citizens.
’Peared like he made a impression on me f’m the first. Anyway, I felt
kind o’ sorry to see him everlastin’ly buckin’ up ag’in a game that was
too much for him, an’ I told him so, many’s the time.
“‘Jake,’ I used to say to him, ‘you hain’t no business playin’ with the
Arkansas City crowd. They’ll do you, sure.’ But he’d always say:
‘Greenhut, I’m learnin’, an’ learnin’ is allus expensive. One o’ these
days I’ll do ’em.’ So I let him alone.
“‘Peared like he learned all of a sudden. He’d been pikin’ along,
playin’ a fiddlin’ game whenever he got a chance to stick his nose in,
but givin’ no evidence o’ talent till this one night, when there was two
strangers come in to do the talent. Jake was here an’ he had about seven
dollars in his clothes when they made up a table stake game an’ each man
put up fifty dollars. There was six playin’, too, so there was three
hundred dollars on the table when they started. Jake, he looked on for
awhile an’ never peeped. Didn’t think he’d be let in an’ consequent said
nothin’ till three of the home talent dropped out, busted. That left Sam
Pearsall playin’ agin the two strangers, an’ he were nervous. He wa’n’t
much more’n holdin’ his own, an’ he looked round to see if there wasn’t
somebody to set in. Joe Bassett an’ Jim Blaisdell was willin’ enough,
but they had no money left, an’ Jake seein’ how things stood, he spoke
up kind o’ timid like, an’ he says: ‘I don’t reckon I’d last more’n a
few minutes, but I’ll take a hand if you’ll let me play for what I’ve
got.’
“Sam spoke up quick an’ says, ‘I hain’t no objections,’ an’ the two
strangers says, kind o’ careless, ‘Oh, that’s all right,’ so down he
sets. But they was disgusted enough when they seen what his pile was. He
dug up seven dollars an’ two bits, an’ bought his chips an’ took a hand.
“It were a dollar jack an’ one o’ the strangers opened it for four
dollars, an’ Jake he throwed down. The stranger he win it, an’ the next
deal it were Jake’s ante. He put up two bits, call four, an’ the others
all come in an’ he wouldn’t make good. That left him just six dollars,
but it were his deal.
“When I seen that deal I kind o’ says to myself that mebbe I’d sorter
mistook Winterbottom, an’ mebbe he’d been practisin’ some. It were
Pearsall’s ante, an’ he made it a dollar to play. The first stranger, he
were a little cross-eyed man, he come in, an’ the other feller raised it
two dollars. Jake he made good, takin’ three dollars, an’ Sam he raised
it five. Then the cross-eyed man made it five more to play, an’ the
other one stayed, an’ Jake called for a sight for his pile.
“Sam took two cards an’ the cross-eyed man took one. The next man took
two, an’ Jake took two. Well, they all filled. Sam made a full, the
cross-eyed man filled a flush, though it wa’n’t the straight flush he
were after; the next man made a seven full, Sam’s bein’ nines, an’ Jake
caught a fourth deuce.
“O’ course, all the bettin’ was amongst the other three, Jake on’y
havin’ a show for the twenty-four dollars his six called for, but Sam
raked in considerable over a hundred on the show-down.
“The next pot were a jack on the fours, an’ Sam made it five dollars to
play. Neither one o’ the strangers opened, so it were up to Jake, an’ he
busted it for nineteen dollars, bein’ his pile. Sam stayed out an’ the
cross-eyed man came in, but he failed to fill, an’ Jake was on velvet
with forty-eight dollars in front of him, havin’ opened on two jacks.
“There was nothin’ doin’ on the next deal, so that made it a dollar
jack, an’ Jake’s first say. He opened it again for the size o’ the pot
an’ got h’isted twice, so it cost him twenty more to play. When it come
to the draw, he said he reckoned he’d split his openers, an’ he laid
aside a queen, holdin’ up four spades.
“Well, that made a rippin’ good pot, for he filled his flush an’ bet all
he had before he looked at his draw. Just naturally, Pearsall an’ the
cross-eyed man both saw the bet, Sam havin’ three aces an’ the other
man three kings.
“By this time they was all gettin’ pretty sore to think they’d let Jake
in with his seven dollars, but it were too late to kick, an’ when it
come his deal again, as it were, the next hand, I says to myself that
I’d just about make up my mind accordin’ to what he did with the cards.
If he was to lose, I’d consider it a streak o’ luck that he’d been
havin’, but if he was to deal ’em as well as he had afore, I’d conclude
that he was a-learnin’ the game.
“Well, after that deal was over, I never had no more doubts about
Winterbottom. O’ course, havin’ as much money as he had to play with,
’twa’n’t necessary nor proper to look after Sam’s interest in the pot,
so he didn’t deal Sam nothin’, but he gave the cross-eyed man three aces
an’ the other feller a pat straight, takin’ care to have a seven spot
handy when it would just fit into his sevens up on the draw. An’ the
bettin’ just come so’s’t he had a chance to give the second raise an’
he scooped about a hundred an’ forty dollars on that pot.
“That left him winnin’ tol’able near all there was on the table, but the
two strangers they both dug, an’ Sam stayed along with about thirty
dollars that he had left, an’ the game went on.
“But, Lord bless ye, them fellers didn’t have no show. They couldn’t
win, no matter what they did, an’ the game broke up in about twenty
minutes, with Pearsall forty dollars ahead, an’ Jake winnin’ all the
other money in sight.
“I ast him about it next day an’ he told me that he’d been a-studyin’
the game all the time since he’d first begun to play, an’ the way he
sized it up it were no use for a man to bet on any cards unless he had a
pretty good notion what was out against him. ‘Some fellers seems to know
it by instinct,’ he says, ‘an’ some has luck, but I never had no luck to
speak of, an’ when I come to tryin’ to judge of another man’s cards by
instinct, I didn’t never seem to strike it right, so I made up my mind
that the on’y thing for me to do was to study the cards an’ get so’s’t
I c’d tell ’em by the feelin’. It takes a heap o’ work learnin’, but I
worked, an’ if I do say it, Greenhut, I don’t reckon there’s any man on
the river that can come nearer’n I can to tellin’ what cards is out,
specially when I’ve dealt ’em.’
“Well, just naturally, a man with such talents as that ain’t a-goin’ to
have his light hid under no bushel basket not for very long. The boys
reco’nized his talents as quick as I did, an’ there ain’t no man in
Arkansas City as is more respected an’ more thought of than Jake is. The
best of it is that he’s square an’ don’t never play it low down on the
home talent. But when it comes to a difficult proposition, such as
sometimes has to be tackled when there’s a couple o’ clever strangers in
town, I never feel safe without thinkin’ Jake Winterbottom is in the
game. An’ if he is, why, the strangers don’t never get away with no
alarmin’ amount of Arkansas City money.”
XX
KENNEY’S ROYAL FLUSH
“It’s a most surprisin’ thing,” said old man Greenhut as he set the
bottles away behind the bar, “that folks don’t seem to ’preciate the
importance o’ bein’ persistent. Now, that there Si Walker, ’t just come
in here an’ took a drink an’ went out ’thout sayin’ a word to no one, is
a bright an’ shinin’ example o’ never doin’ nothin’ worth while, ’cause
he don’t never stick to it. Gits discouraged like an’ sets down an’
thinks about it, when if he’d on’y spit on his hands an’ take a fresh
grip he mought come out a four-time winner. Why, I tell you that man
might ’a’ been a justice o’ the peace an’ married the Widow Baker with
four hundred acres o’ good farm land, no end o’ stock an’ utensils, an’
money in the bank, on’y fer that fatal habit o’ his o’ not stickin’ to
it. Just give up, he did, ’cause he got beat out in two ’lections an’
wouldn’t run fer office no more, an’ when the widow said no three or
four times, he ’lowed she didn’t want him an’ got out o’ the game, when
the blame fool’d oughter knowed that all she wanted was a man with
gumption enough to keep on courtin’.”
The old man turned his back for a moment, while he slyly poured a little
water into a whiskey bottle in which the liquor was running low, and
then placing it with the other bottles he came out to his favourite seat
by the window and sat smoking for some minutes.
“Beats all,” he said, after awhile, “how folks lets go like that. Don’t
seem to have no sense o’ religion. The Good Book says, ‘Go to the ant,’
you sluggers. Consider her ways and be wise. Now, there ain’t no p’ints
about a ant that’s worth considerin’, ’cept their almighty
stick-to-it-iveness. Stands to reason, it means fer us to keep peggin’
away till we git there. ’F Si Walker’d on’y pegged like the ants does,
he mought ’a’ been rich an’ respected.
“There was Pete Kenney that dropped off’n a boat here some thirty year
ago an’ just stayed. There didn’t seem to be no reason why he should ’a’
come here in the first place, or why he should ’a’ stayed after he
arrove, but he did. Some said he must ’a’ dropped on to the boat by
accident somewheres up the river, an’ the captain put him off at the
first landin’, him not havin’ the regulation fare in his jeans. However
’twas, he come, an’ he remained. More’n that, he’s well fixed now an’
pays taxes.
“There warn’t no reason fer it, fer as anybody could see, ’ceptin’
Pete’s all-fired persistency. He was a bright enough sort o’ man an’
might ’a’ settled down in business fer himself, fer he got a job as
bartender down to the hotel an’ made money. They do say as how a steady,
industrious bartender in a hotel where there’s a good run o’ business
an’ a boss that drinks some himself, can have a saloon of his own in a
few years, an’ I reckon it’s pretty near true. I kept bar in a hotel
myself when I was young.
“That wa’n’t Pete’s lay, though. Pete used to say that there was one
way of establishin’ yourself in life that laid over any other, an’ that
was to hold a royal flush in a good stiff game o’ draw-poker. Then, he
says, it’s on’y a question o’ how much the others has got to inspire
their confidence, an’ how much they has to bet with that fixes the
amount to be gathered in, so’s’t a man can retire an’ be respectable fer
the rest of his natural life.
“Some on us reasoned with Pete at times about this. We told him that
royal flushes was sca’ce game, an’ that four of a kind was good enough
fer a careful player to get rich on, but Pete ’lowed that a royal flush
was the on’y thing a man could be dead sure of. Seems he’d had four
queens beat when he was young, an’ he’d l’arned consid’able caution from
th’ experience.
“‘As to a royal flush bein’ sca’ce,’ Pete says, ‘it stands to reason
that a man’s goin’ to get it sometime, if he plays long enough. Stick to
it,’ he says, ‘an’ sooner or later yer goin’ to git a royal flush. The
on’y thing needed is to stick to it.’
“Consequences was that Pete, havin’ found his theory of business
success, devoted himself to the workin’ on it out, with a persistency
that would ’a’ growed wool on a nigger’s heel ’f he’d devoted hisself to
that particular form of effort. Why, Pete’d give his nights an’ days to
poker. He never allowed business to interfere with a game, long’s he’d
money to play with.
“Just naturally his theory of the game interfered with his general
success. Mostly it does interfere, I’ve noticed, when a man gets
theories in his head an’ plays the game different f’m the ordinary run
o’ people. These here sharps that figgers out some particular thing in
the game as bein’ a dead certainty, always loses money on it, for you
can say what you like about the great American game, but it certainly
does beat anything else for the preponderance of uncertainty that has to
be calculated on, whenever you have a dead sure thing in your mind--all
excepting a royal flush, as Pete used to say with ondeniable wisdom.
“Pete’s mind bein’ fixed, so to speak, on that royal flush, you can see
for yourself that it warped his judgment on the question o’ drawin’
cards. Many a time I’ve seen him split a pair of aces, an’ draw three
cards to a ace an’ queen, or ace an’ ten o’ the same suit. Once I even
seen him split two pairs, aces an’ queens, an’ draw two cards to the
ace, queen an’ jack o’ diamonds, an’ Joe Hooker says he seen the blamed
ijjit split three kings to draw to three hearts just because they was
court cards o’ the same suit. An’ the first card he picked up in the
draw was the fourth king. Shows how a man’ll overlook the blessin’s o’
Providence right in his fist, reachin’ out after things he hain’t no
reason to hope for in the natural course of events. Stands to reason a
man’ll lose money defyin’ fate with such monkey-shines as them.