A BLUFF THAT WORKED.
By J. K. Strachan, J.P., of British Columbia.
This amusing little story was told to me by Mr. John Wood, in the Tecumseh Hotel at Winnipeg. He happened to see there the character I have called “Slippery Dick,” whom he had known in 1881 or 1882 at a small village near London, Ontario, where he then lived, and the sight of the man recalled the facts to his mind. As most of the parties concerned are still living, I have thought it advisable to alter the names.
Dick Small was his name, but we called him “Small Dick,” or “Slippery Dick,” on account of his small and mean ways. Well, one night Sam Smart and I and several other boys were in Steve Brown’s bar, “talking horse,” when old Dick came meandering in, and, of course, chipped in with some of his usual boasting.
“I’ve got the best little mare in the settlement,” he told us, “and don’t you forget it. I’m game to back that little bit of horseflesh for fifty dollars for a mile, twice round the half-mile track, against anything you can produce in these parts. Who’s got anything to say? I’ll run her now, to-morrow, or any time.”
“You ain’t produced the collateral,” put in Sam, quietly.
With that old Dick thrust his hand into his back pocket and drew out quite a wad. Counting out five ten-dollar bills, he put them on the counter.
“Now, Steve, you’re stakeholder,” he said. “Who’s going to cover ’em? It’s put up or shut up.”
Sam got up, and, putting a fifty-dollar bill on top of Dick’s, replied, “I’ll jest take that bet. Hold the stakes, Steve.”
“All right,” said Steve, and pushed the money into his safe.
The boys all looked at Sam, puzzled like, and old Slippery was wondering what it all meant.
“Didn’t know you had a horse, Sam,” he remarked.
“You don’t know everything, Dick,” returned Sam, “but I ain’t surprised, for I only brought him home to-day. Well, let’s settle the time for the match. To-morrow morning at eight o’clock will suit me. I don’t want a crowd to know too much of my horse’s points, so we’ll do it on the quiet.”
The old man agreed to this, and Sam went on: “And now, as I’ve got to see some business, I’ll say good-bye, boys. Say, Steve, a word with you before I go.”
Steve and Sam went into the back room, and in about five minutes Sam came out and walked off.
The boys and Slippery hung around, and you could see the old miser was uneasy about his fifty dollars. So he began a-trying to pump Steve. “Say, Steve,” said he, “what kind of a horse has Sam got?”
“Don’t know; ain’t seen him,” replied Steve.
“You don’t know anything about him, I suppose?” inquired Dick.
“Only what Sam told me, and I don’t suppose he wanted me to repeat it. But as the bet’s made I don’t see that it matters. He told me that he covered fifteen miles with the horse yesterday in less than three-quarters of an hour, and he landed it fresh as paint; hadn’t turned a hair.”
“Gee whizz!” ejaculated Slippery, in dismay. “I’m a goner! I don’t know what I’d better do. I’ve a note to meet at the bank to-morrow, and if Sam wins my money I sha’n’t be able to come up to time on the note, and it’ll go to protest. Everybody’ll know it and my credit will be gone. What a fool I was!”
“Well, Dick,” said Steve, “I’m sorry for you, but it’s your own fault; nobody asked you to bet. Say, Sam’s not a bad sort when he’s treated right; couldn’t you tell him you forgot an important engagement for to-morrow, and ask him to agree to draw the bet? Maybe he would if you put it to him right.”
“Think he would, Steve?” asked Dick, doubtfully. “Wonder where I could find him?”
“I think I know where he could be located, and if you like I’ll send my boy Jim to bring him along.”
“Thanky, Steve. I wish you would,” said old Dick.
Soon after the boy returned, and close behind him came Sam. Looking round, and seeing old Slippery and nearly all the boys still there, he asked, “What’s up? Want to double the bet, Dick? If so, you can be accommodated.”
Steve, pretending to side with old Dick, explained that the old man had forgotten a particular engagement and had to go away for some days. As accidents might happen, he thought it would be better to cancel the bets and arrange a fresh match later on.
But Sam took it badly, angrily demanding what sort of idiot they took him for. “Draw bets? Not much!” he cried. “I’ll double it, if you like.”
Then he turned upon Dick Small, who was looking mighty miserable. “You old rascal,” he went on, “I know what it is—you’re afraid you’ll lose your money. Serve you right! You wanted to back your old mare, didn’t you? No one asked you to. Draw bets, you say? No, siree, not by a jugful!”
“Look here, Sam,” said Steve, “don’t be too hard. You think you’ve got a sure thing, but accidents might happen even on your side. Why don’t you two compromise? Supposing Dick allows you something for your trouble and sets up drinks for the crowd?”
“What do you mean by a compromise?” demanded Sam. “If Dick forfeits half his bet, that would be about fair, I should say.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that, really,” cried old Slippery, in great distress.
“Very well,” said Sam, “then the bet stands. Good-bye; I’m busy.”
“Hold on a bit,” put in Steve, and, drawing the old man aside, he whispered to him for a minute or two. You should have seen the different emotions which chased over old Dick’s face! At last, however, he seemed to agree with Steve; and then Steve, addressing the crowd, told us that he quite understood the matter. The proposition he had to make was that Dick should pay Sam ten dollars and stand a double treat round for the crowd. If the boys now present considered that fair, he added, he thought Sam, as a sportsman, should accept.
“Do as you like,” said Sam. “I’m tired of the whole thing.”
So Steve took the votes of the company. A few thought the bet ought to stand; but the majority, being pretty thirsty, were in favour of the proposition, and it was finally carried, Sam getting back his fifty dollars and ten dollars of old Slippery’s. Steve charged three dollars for the two rounds, and gave the old man back the remaining thirty-seven dollars.
“Say, Sam,” said old Dick, just as he was going, “I should like to see your horse, if you have no objection.”
“Why, certainly,” replied Sam. “Any time you like; if I’m not at home, ask the missus.”
When Dick had gone the boys all started asking questions about Sam’s horse, but all he would say was, “You’ll know all about it by and by.”
Next day, as Sam expected, old Dick went up to Sam’s place. There was only the missus at home; Sam took care to be out of the way.
“Mornin’, Mrs. Smart,” said Slippery, politely.
“Good morning, Mr. Small,” answered Mrs. Smart. “What brings you round these parts?”
“Why, Sam said I might see the new horse if I came up.”
“I don’t see why you should be interested in such a thing,” said Mrs. Smart, looking puzzled, “but you can see it if you want to. It’s in the kitchen.”
Old Slippery was taken aback; he thought he must surely have misunderstood her.
“In the kitchen?” he echoed.
“Yes, in the kitchen, standing by the stove,” replied the woman. “You can go right in and look at it if you want to, but what there is to see in it I can’t make out.”
The old man, not comprehending things at all, went through into the kitchen and looked around. But the only horse he saw there, if he expected to see any other in such a place, was a new four-legged clothes-horse with a few articles hanging on it to dry!
In an instant he realized the trick that had been played upon him, and very nearly went crazy. He stamped and swore, while poor Mrs. Smart wondered what it all meant, or if the old man had suddenly gone mad. Presently, however, she commenced to smell a rat.
“What fool trick has that man of mine been up to now?” she asked.
“I don’t know about a fool trick,” screamed the old man, “but I do know that he has swindled me out of ten good dollars, besides making me pay three dollars for a double round of drinks for all the thirsty loafers down at Steve Brown’s saloon. But I’ll get even with him, the swindler, and with Steve Brown, too, and all his gang! It was a put-up job; I can see it all now. What a double-dyed fool I’ve been! But I’ll sue him—I’ll show him up!”
“I’LL SUE HIM—I’LL SHOW HIM UP!”
And away he went, leaving Mrs. Smart quite in the dark as to the cause of his wrath.
Still raving, the foolish old man came down town, where he saw Sam and Steve and some more of the boys. He promptly called them all a lot of thieves and crooks and swindlers, said it was all a put-up job, and that he would report Steve to the Licence Commissioners, get his licence cancelled, and make Sam return the ten dollars and Steve the three dollars he had for the drinks.
Steve heard him out quietly, and then told him to get out of his house. Dick would hear from him later, he said.
When Dick had gone, Sam and Steve went over to the town and told the whole story to Lawyer Harris. Sam said he had never thought of making any bet, but could not stand the old man’s everlasting boasting, so the idea struck him that he would work off a “bluff” on Small. He certainly had stated that he and his “horse” covered fifteen miles under forty-two minutes. It was quite correct, for he brought it in on the train. Moreover, he had stated that it landed “as fresh as paint”; that was true again—it had been freshly painted. He had said, further, that it didn’t turn a hair, and it didn’t—for the best of reasons.
The lawyer roared with laughter; it was the best joke he had heard for a long time, he said, and served the old skinflint right. “I’ll write and claim two hundred and fifty dollars each for Steve and Sam for malicious slander,” he added, “and threaten him with a writ if he doesn’t pay up.”
The lawyer sent his clerk over to deliver the letter to old Dick, who read it over two or three times before he understood it. Then he nearly had a fit, but the clerk advised him to keep quiet and come over and see Mr. Harris, and perhaps they could settle things.
When Small arrived the lawyer let him have it hot and strong. He told him he was always thrusting himself in where he wasn’t wanted, and now, because for once he had overreached himself, he couldn’t take his medicine quietly, but must go calling people thieves and swindlers, in spite of the fact that he would have been glad enough to pocket Sam’s fifty dollars. If he defended the suit, the lawyer said, he would certainly have to pay damages and costs, besides making himself the laughing-stock of the country for miles around.
Dick saw the point and began to climb down, and finally Mr. Harris let him off on paying ten dollars each to Sam and Steve, another ten dollars for lawyer’s fees, and signing a letter of apology. And that’s the whole story, but I don’t think old Dick has ever made a bet since.