CHAPTER XXIII.
Claude Visits the Pool-room.
“You treated me just as you treat everybody else who came to your ranch, and no better,” said Claude, hurrying down the street, away from his cousin. “You couldn’t treat me any better than you could anybody else just because I was a relation of yours, could you? Well, you gave me one piece of advice that I will remember. I will put this money in bank, so that the fellows can’t draw on me for it.”
Claude was so mad when he took leave of his cousin that he tore along the street, paying no attention to anybody, bumping against the pedestrians he chanced to meet, and then hurried on without apologizing and presently reached the bank where his father had kept a small amount deposited during his lifetime. Here he left fourteen hundred dollars of his money, and with the balance tucked safely away in his vest pocket he came out and took his way toward a pool-room which he had often been in the habit of visiting. He had been away from St. Louis a long time, and he was not certain that he could find anyone there with whom he was acquainted. The length of time he had been away, gaining health and strength by his outdoor exercise, had doubtless scattered the old frequenters of the place far and wide, and he would not know where to go to look for them.
“It all depends upon finding two men here who will just ache to handle that—I believe I’ll put it twenty thousand while I am about it,” said Claude, as he turned and made his way up stairs to the pool-room. “Ten thousand might not tempt them to run any risk, so I guess I will just double it. The first thing I do must be to keep myself out of Carl’s way. I will show the fellows where the boat lies, and they must do the rest.”
Claude threw open a door as he spoke, and there was the pool-room in full blast. There were four tables in the room, and each of them was surrounded by men and boys who were eagerly watching the game. No one noticed him when he went in. There was a new barkeeper behind the counter, and a hasty glance at the men about the tables satisfied him that the ones he wanted to see were not there, or, if they were, the hours they had passed at the pool-room had changed them materially.
“Is Tony Waller here yet?” said he, addressing the barkeeper.
“Well, I guess not,” said the man, with a laugh. “Tony’s gone up.”
“Is he dead?” asked Claude.
“No, he ain’t; but he might as well be. Tony couldn’t make money by playing for it honest, and so he had to go to work and hold up one of our customers. He got five years for it.”
“Well, is Bud Kelly here?” said Claude, who was surprised to hear this about Tony.