The Coming of Cassidy by Clarence E. Mulford (romantic novels in english TXT) 📕

scar over one brow, and the big, blue eyes that years of life had not entirely robbed of their baby-like innocence. The past, sorted thoroughly and quickly by his memory, shoved out that face before a crowd of others. Five years is not a long time to remember something unpleasant; he had reasons to remember that countenance. Knowing the face he also knew that the man had been, at one time, far from “square.” The associations and means of livelihood during the past five years, judging from the man’s present occupation, had not been the kind to correct any evil tendency. He laid a forefinger on the edge of the tray. “Start th’ machinery I’ll risk a couple of dollars, anyhow. That ain’t much to lose. I bet two dollars I can call it right,” he said, watching closely.

He won, as he knew he would; and the result told him that the gambler had not reformed. The dexterous fingers shifting the shells were slower than others he had seen operate and when he had won again he stopped, as if to leave. “When I hit town a short time ago I didn’t know I’d be so lucky. I went an’ drawed two months’ pay when I left th’ ranch: I shore don’t need it. Shuffle ‘em again it’s yore money, anyhow,” he laughed. “You should ‘a’ quit th’ game before you got so slow.”

“Goin’ back to work purty soon?” queried the shell-man, wondering how much this “sucker” had left unspent.

“Not me! I’ve only just had a couple of drinks since I hit town an’ I’m due to celebrate.”

The other’s face gave no hint of his thoughts, which were that the fool before him had about a hundred dollars on his person. “Well, luck’s with you today you’ve called it right twice.

I’ll bet you a cool hundred that you can’t call it th’ third time. It’s th’ quickness of my hands agin yore eyes an’ you can’t beat me three straight. Make it a hundred? I hate to play all day.”

“I’ll lay you my winnin’s an’ have some more of yore money,” replied the puncher, feverishly. “Ain’t scared, are you?”

“Don’t know what it means to be scared,” laughed the other. “But I ain’t got no small change, nothin’ but tens. Play a hundred an’ let’s have some real excitement.”

“Nope; eight or nothin’.”

He won again. “Now, sixteen even. Come on; I’ve got you beat.”

“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 couldn’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 wouldn’t ‘a’ played at all if I hadn’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 cuecards, 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 cuecard 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 highcard 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 lookout 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 cuecard, 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