"Yes, Bill; you bet you won't have to give up when I'm around."
"George, them fellows took me for a sucker. Do I look like a sucker?"
"No, Bill; you look like a nice, smart counter-hopper," I replied.
Bill laughed and said, "George, I'm $10 better off than I would have been if you had not got here just in time; let's take something and then go to bed."
The fellow dropped his big knife, which we found on the floor; so that he was out $10 and his knife by tackling—not a sucker, but one of the oldest and best sucker-catchers in the country.
TWO-FORTY ON THE SHELL ROAD.
During the war, after Ben Butler took possession of New Orleans, the city was always full of Union officers and soldiers. Money was very plentiful, and of course everything was lively. I was running the race-course and gambling games out at the lake, and was making big money. I had nineteen good horses. Some were trotters, some pacers, and some runners. I would drive out and in over the shell road, which at that time was one of the finest drives in this country. I did not allow any one to have a faster horse than myself, and generally drove a pacer, as the road was very hard, and would stove up a trotter in a short time. I had a very pretty bay mare that could pace in 2:30 every day in the week, and she had beaten fourteen other horses at the State Fair in 2:26½. I drove "Emma Devol" (the bay mare) most of the time. I had a big black horse called the "Duke of Orleans," which was faster than "Emma Devol," but I hardly ever drove him on the shell road, as I kept him for the race-track.
I was driving the "Duke" out on the road one evening, when I overtook a big fellow by the name of Jim Dueane, who was a lieutenant of police at that time. He was a good, clever fellow when sober, but very quarrelsome when drunk. He was driving a good horse, and I could see he was under the influence of liquor. He asked me where I got the plug I was driving, for he did not recognize the "Duke." I told him it was an old fellow I had bought for $50 to drive on the road, as I did not want to stove up my race-horses. We were about two miles from the lake, when he offered to bet me a bottle of wine he could beat me to the lake. I took him up, and we started. I let him get a little ahead, so I could see how his horse moved.
We were going along in this way for the first mile, when he looked back and said, "Come on, Devol, or you will have to pay for the wine."
I replied, "All right, I will do it, as I do not want to lose the bet."