"But what's th' use of stringin' 'long like that?" demanded the
shell-man.
"Gimme a chance to get my hand in, won't you?" retorted the puncher.
"Well, all right," replied the gambler, and he lost the sixteen.
"Now thirty," suggested the puncher. "Next time all I 've got, every
red cent. Once more to practice--then every red," he repeated, shifting
his feet nervously. "I 'll clean you out an' have a real, genuine
blow-out on yore money. Come on, I 'm in a hurry."
"I 'll fool you _this_ time, by th' Lord!" swore the gambler, angrily.
"You've got more luck than sense. An' I 'll fool you next time, too. Yo
're quicker 'n most men I 've run up agin, but I can beat you, shore as
shootin'. Th' game's square, th' play fair--my hand agin yore eye.
Ready? Then watch me!"
He swore luridly and shoved the money across the board to the winner,
bewailing his slowness and getting angrier every moment. "Yo 're th'
cussedest man I ever bet agin! But I'll get you _this_ time. You can't
guess right all th' time, an' I know it."
"There she is; sixty-two bucks, three score an' two simoleons; all I 've
got, every cent. Let's see you take it away from me!"
The gambler frowned and choked back a curse. He had risked sixty
dollars to win two, and the fact that he had to let this fool play again
with the fire hurt his pride. He had no fear for his money--he knew he
could win at every throw--but to play that long for two dollars! And
suppose the sucker had quit with the sixty!
"Do you get a dollar a month?" he demanded, sarcastically. "Well, I
reckon you earn it, at that. Thought you had money, thought you drew
down two months' pay an' hain't had nothin' more'n two drinks? Did you
go an' lose it on th' way?"
"Oh, I drew it a month ago," replied the sucker, surprised. "I 've only
had two drinks in this town, which I hit 'bout an hour ago. But I shore
lost a wad playin' faro-bank agin a towhead. Come on--lemme take sixty
more of yore money, anyhow."
"Sixty-_two_!" snapped the proprietor, determined to have those two
miserable dollars and break the sucker for revenge. "Every cent, you
remember."
"_All_ right; I don't care! I ain't no tin-horn," grumbled the other.
"Think I care 'bout two dollars?" But he appeared to be very nervous,
nevertheless.
"Well, put it on th' table."
"After you put yourn down."
"There it is. Now watch me close!" A gleam of joy flashed up in the
angry man's eyes as he played with the shells. "Watch me close! Mebby
it is, an' mebby it ain't--th' game's square, th' play 's fair. It's my
hand agin yore eye. Watch me close!"
"Oh, go ahead! I'm watchin', all right. Think I 'd go to sleep now!"
The shifting hands stopped, the shells lay quiet, and the gambler gazed
blankly down the unsympathetic barrel of a Colt.
"Now, Thomas, old thimble-rigger," crisply remarked the supposed sucker
as he cautiously slid the money off the table, to be picked up later
when conditions would be more favorable. "Th' little pea ain't under
_no_ shell. _Stop_! Step back one pace an' elevate them paws. Don't
make no more funny motions with that hand, savvy? But you can drop th'
pea if it hurts them two fingers. Now we 'll see if I win; I allus like
to be shore," and he cautiously turned over the shells, revealing
nothing but the dirty green cloth. "I win; it ain't there--just like I
thought."
"Who are you, an' how 'd you know my name?" demanded the gambler,
mentally cursing his two missing cappers. They were drinking once too
often and things were going to happen in their vicinity, and very soon.
"Why, you took twenty-five dollars from me up in Alameda onct, when I
could n't afford to lose it," grinned the puncher. "I was something of
a kid then. I remember you, all right. My foreman told me about yore
bang-up fight agin th' Johnson brothers, who gave you that scar. I
thought then that you were a great man--now I know you ain't. I would
n't 'a' played at all if I had n't knowed how crooked you was. Take yore
layout an' yore crookedness, find th' pea an' yore cappers, an' clear
out. An' if anybody asks you if you 've seen Hopalong Cassidy you tell
'em I 'm up here in Colby makin' some easy money beatin' crooked games.
So-long, an' _don't_ look back!"
Hopalong watched him go and then went to the nearest place where he
could get something to eat. In due time, having disposed of a square
meal, Hopalong called for a drink and a cigar, and sat quietly smoking
for nearly half an hour, so lost in thought that his cigar went out
repeatedly. As he reviewed his disastrous play at faro many small
details came to him and now he found them interesting. The dealer was
not a master at his trade and Hopalong had seen many better; in fact the
man was not even second class, and this fact hurt his pride. He had
played a careful game, and the great majority of his small bets had
won--it was only when he risked twenty or thirty dollars that he lost.
The only big bet that he had been at all lucky on was one where doubles
showed on the turn and he had been split, losing half of his stake. But
when he had played his last fifty dollars on the Jack, open, the final
blow fell and he had left the table in disgust.
Why weren't there cue-cards, so the players could keep their own tally
of the cards instead of having to depend on the cue-box kept by the
case-keeper? This made him suspicious; a crooked dealer and case-keeper
can trim a big bet at will, unless the players keep their own cases or
are exceptionally wise; and even then a really good dealer will get away
with his play nine times out of ten. While he seldom played a system,
he had backed one that morning; but he was cured of that weakness now.
If the game were square he figured he could get at least an even break;
if crooked, nothing but a gun could beat it, and he had a very good gun.
When he thought of the gun, he reviewed the arrangement of the room and
estimated the weight of the rough, deal table on which rested the faro
layout. He smiled and turned to the bartender. "Hey, barkeeper! Got
any paper an' a pencil?"
After some rummaging the taciturn dispenser of liquid forget-it produced
the articles in question and Hopalong, drawing some hurried lines, paid
his bill, treated, kept the pencil and headed for the faro game across
the street.
When he entered the room the table was deserted and he nodded to the
dealer as he seated himself at the right of the case-keeper, who now
took his place, and opposite the dealer and the lookout. He was not
surprised to find no other players in the room, for the hour was wrong;
later in the afternoon there would be many and at night the place would
be crowded. This suited him perfectly and he settled himself to begin
playing.
When the deck was shuffled and placed in the deal box Hopalong put his
ruled paper in front of him on the table, tallied once against the King
for the soda card and started to play quarters and half dollars. He
caught the fugitive look that passed between the men as they saw his
cue-card but he gave no sign of having observed it. After that he never
looked up from the cards while his bets were small. Two deals did not
alter his money much and he knew that so far the game was straight. If
it were not to remain straight the crookedness would not come more than
once in a deal if the frame-up was "single-odd" and then not until the
bet was large enough to practically break him. His high-card play ran
in his favor and kept him gradually drawing ahead. He lost twice in
calling the last turn and guessed it right once, at four to one, which
made him win in that department of the game.
When the fifth deal began he was quite a little ahead and his play
became bolder, some of the bets going as high as ten dollars. He broke
even and then played heavier on the following deal. His first high bet,
twenty dollars, was on the eight, open, only one eight having shown.
Double eights showed on the next turn and he was split, losing half the
stake.
It was about this time that the look-out discovered that Mr. Cassidy was
getting a little excited and several times had nearly forgotten to keep
his cases. This information was cautiously passed to the dealer and
case-keeper and from then on they evinced a little more interest in the
game. Finally the player, after studying his cue-card, placed fifty
dollars on the Queen, open, and coppered the deuce, a case-card, and
then put ten more on the high card. This came in the middle of the game
and he was prepared for trouble as the turn was made, but fortune was
kind to him and he raked in sixty dollars. He was mildly surprised that
he had won, but explained it to himself by thinking that the stakes were
not yet high enough. From then on he was keenly alert, for the
crookedness would come soon if it ever did, but he strung small sums on
the next dozen turns and waited for a new deal before plunging.
As the dealer shuffled the cards the door opened and closed noisily and
a surprised and doubting voice exclaimed: "Ain't you Hopalong Cassidy?
Cassidy, of th' Bar-20?"
Hopalong glanced up swiftly and back to the cards again: "Yes; what of
it?"
"Oh, nothin'. I saw you onct an' I wondered if I was right."
"Ain't got time now; see you later, mebby. You might stick around
outside so I can borrow some money if I go broke." The man who knew Mr.
Cassidy silently faded, but did not stick around, thereby proving that
the player knew human nature and also how to get rid of a pest.
When the dealer heard the name he glanced keenly at the owner of it,
exchanged significant looks with the case-keeper and faltered for an
instant as he shoved the cards together. He was not sure that he had
shuffled them right, and an anxious look came into his eyes as he
realized that the deal must go on. It was far from reassuring to set
out to cheat a man so well known for expert short-gun work as the Bar-20
puncher and he wished he could be relieved. There was no other dealer
around at that time of the day and he had to go through with it. He did
not dare to shuffle again and chance losing the card beyond hope, and
for the reason that the player was watching him like a hawk.
A ten lay face up on the deck and Hopalong, tallying against it on his
sheet, began to play small sums. Luck was variable and remained so
until the first twenty dollar bet, when he reached out excitedly and
raked in his winnings, his coat sleeve at the same time brushing the
cue-card off the table. But he had forgotten all about the tally sheet
in his eagerness to win and played several more cards before he noticed
it was missing and sought for it. Smothering a curse he glanced at the
case-keeper's tally and went on with the play. He did not see the look
of relief that showed momentarily on the faces of the dealer and his
associates, but he guessed it.
He had no use for cue-cards when he felt like doing without them; he
liked to see them in use by the players because it showed the game to be
more or less straight, and it also saved him from over-heating his
memory. When he had brushed his tally sheet off the table he knew what
he was doing, and he knew every card that had been drawn out of the box.
So far he had seen no signs of cheating and he wished to give the dealer
a chance. There should now remain in the deal box three cards, a deuce,
five and a four, with a Queen in sight as the last winner. He knew this
to be true because he had given all his attention to memorizing the
cards as they showed in the deal box, and had made his bets small so he
would not have to bother about them. As he had lost three times on a
four he now believed it was due to win.
Taking all his money he placed it on the four: "Two hundred and seventy
on th' four to win," he remarked, crisply.
The dealer sniffed almost inaudibly and the case-keeper prepared to
cover him on the cue-rack under cover of the excitement of the turn. If
the four lay under the Queen, Cassidy lost; if not he either won or was
in hock. The dealer was unusually grave as he grasped the deal box to
make the turn and as the Queen slid off a five-spot showed.
The dealer's hand trembled as he slid the five off, showing a four, and
a winner for Hopalong. He went white--he had bungled the shuffle in his
indecision and now he did n't know what might develop. And in his
agitation he exposed the hock card before he realized what he was doing,
and showed another five. He had made the mistake of showing the "odd."
Hopalong, ready for trouble, was more prepared than the others and he
was well under way before they started. His left hand swung hard
against the case-keeper's jaw, his Colt roared at the drawing bartender,
crumpling the trouble-hunter into a heap on the floor dazed from shock
of a ball that "creased" his head. He had done this as he sprang to his
feet and his left hand, dropping swiftly to the heavy table, threw it
over onto the lookout and the dealer at the instant their hands found
their guns. Caught off their balance they went down under it and before
they could move sufficiently to do any damage, Hopalong vaulted the
table and kicked their guns out of their hands. When they realized just
what had happened a still-smoking Colt covered them. Many of Hopalong's
most successful and spectacular plays had been less carefully thought
out beforehand than this one and he laughed sneeringly as he looked at
the men who had been so greedy as to try to clean him out the second
time.
"Get up!" he snarled.
They crawled out of their trap and sullenly obeyed his hand, backing
against the wall. The case-keeper was still unconscious and Hopalong,
disarming him, dragged him to the wall with the others.
"I wondered where that deuce had crawled to," Mr. Cassidy remarked,
grimly, "an' I was goin' to see, only it's plain now. I knowed you was
clumsy, but my G--d! Any man as can't deal 'single-odd' ought to quit
th' business, or play straight. So you had five fives agin me, eh?
Instead of keepin' th' five under th' Queen, you bungled th' deuce in
its place. When you went to pull off th' Queen an' five like they was
one card, you had th' deuce under her. You see, I keep cases in my old
red head an' I did n't have to believe what th' cue-rack was all fixed
to show me. An' I was waitin', all ready for th' play that 'd make me
lose.
"As long as this deal was framed up, we 'll say it was this mornin'.
You cough up th' hundred an' ten I lost then, an' another hundred an'
ten that I 'd won if it was n't crooked. An' don't forget that
two-seventy I just pulled down, neither. Make it in double eagles an'
don't be slow 'bout it. Money or lead--with _you_ callin' th' turn."
It was not a very large amount and it took only a moment to count it
out. The eleven double eagles representing the mornin's play seemed to
slide from the dealer's hand with reluctance--but a man lives only once,
and they slid without stopping.
The winner, taking the money, picked up the last money he had bet and,
distributing it over his person to equalize the weight, gathered up the
guns from the floor. Backing toward the door he noticed that the
bartender moved and a keen glance at that unfortunate assured him that
he would live.
When he reached the door he stopped a moment to ask a question, the
tenseness of his expression relaxing into a broad, apologetic grin.
"Would you mind tellin' me where I can find some more frame-ups? I
shore can use th' money."
The mumbled replies mentioned a locality not to be found on any map of
the surface of the globe, and grinning still more broadly, Mr. Cassidy
side-stepped and disappeared to find his horse and go on his way
rejoicing.