It will be necessary to introduce the reader to two of the three men who made up the party. One was a life-long Southerner, whose passion for gaming had reduced him to such extremities that he was ready for any undertaking, no matter how desperate, if it promised to yield money. He had been the proprietor of a large plantation, but had squandered his entire fortune at cards. The other gambler was an Englishman by birth, and a most desperate character. He had spent the better part of his life in New Orleans, where he was familiarly known as Reddy. He was a scoundrel of the deepest dye, without any of the suavity of manner which characterized his companion.
With these two men as antagonists, and with a third as a looker-on, Ben sat down to the game. He had with him some two hundred dollars, which he had won at faro while in Mobile. For an hour or so, the play progressed without any material advantage to any one, although it was evident that the two gamblers were playing together to fleece Hogan. At last Ben was dealt a hand in which was contained the ace of spades. He drew, however, to a pair of queens, and was lucky enough to get a third. As this made a stronger hand than had been shown up for some time, he went his pile on its soundness. Reddy passed out of the hand, but the Southerner covered Ben’s bets, until the pot contained four hundred dollars.
“What have you got?” demanded Ben.
His antagonist laid down three aces—among them the ace of spades.
“That beats me,” remarked Hogan quietly.
The Southerner put out his hand to draw in the money.
“One minute,” said Ben, throwing down the cards, and rising to his feet; “this is a skin game, and you can’t touch that money!”
“What do you mean?” demanded the Southerner, also rising to his feet, and at the same time turning pale with rage.
“Just what I say,” answered Ben. “This is a skin game. I was dealt the ace of spades, discarded it, and you show it up in your hand. I demand the right now to go through the cards, and show that there are two aces of spades in the pack.”
“I’ll be damned if you will!” broke in Reddy, jumping to his feet, and at the same time drawing a revolver. “D’ye mean to insult us?”