“‘No you ain’t,’ she says.
“‘Yes, I am,’ I says, and I slammed the door.
“I threw it on the table. ‘There,’ I says to Bill and Pettibone, ‘I raise you that.’ They demanded a sight. I wouldn’t give it to ’em. It was a no-limit game, don’t you see, and they couldn’t see my hand without putting up the money. They didn’t have any more.
“They drew bowie knives. Yes, sir, bowie knives—great big long fellers. I whispers to Fowler. I says: ‘Swipe the swag and sherry your nibs.’ That’s slang you know. Then I says to Bill and Pettibone, I says: ‘Hold on, hold on; don’t let’s have any trouble,’ and while I was sayin’ that, I picks up a chair and hits ’em both. O, I lammed ’em good. Lord, I was a strong young feller then. People came runnin’ out in their night clos’—great excitement. The cap’n wanted to throw Bill and Pettibone overboard but I wouldn’t let him. I gave ’em their watches back. I handed my wife a big diamond ring. That shut her up. Then I promised her I’d never gamble any more, and I never have.”
A DISCOURAGED SPECULATOR.
I have always regarded faro dealing as being but a very few degrees less respectable than operating upon the floor of the stock or produce exchange. The same essential elements are present in both cases—a disposition to obtain something for nothing, a rash venture by an inexperienced player, and a determination on the part of a practiced veteran to win the money of his antagonist. As illustrative of this point I might recount a narrative told of a certain gambler who once visited Chicago. For two or three days he played poker with decided success, and found himself the winner of several hundred dollars. Elated by his good fortune the idea occurred to him that he possessed all the qualifications necessary to operate upon a wider scale. He determined to try his luck upon the Chicago Board of Trade. One of his friends suggested to him that however much he might know about dealing or “holding out” a poker hand, he was utterly ignorant of the course and manipulation of the wheat market. His friend also urged that a capital as small as his would not go far toward the control of a “corner.” However, serenely confident of his own sagacity, the poker player determined to take the chances. Employing a broker, he made a purchase. For a day or two the market went in his favor, and he smiled at the contemplation of his own superior wisdom. He wrote to his father, who lived in a country town not more than a hundred miles away, to meet him at the depot with a carriage the following Saturday; that he was about to return home loaded down with presents for all members of the family. But, “woe betide the cruel fate!” In less than twenty-four hours after sending this exultant message a decline in grain wiped out all his margins and left him comparatively penniless. His next message[message] to his father was of a decidedly different tenor. It ran thus: “Dear father; meet me at the nearest railroad crossing with a hat and pair of shoes. I have a blanket myself.”
THE LUCK OF A ONE-EYED MAN.
One of the most bare-faced, yet at the same time most successful confidence tricks which I ever saw perpetrated was played upon an individual who prided himself on the strength of his eyesight. Going into a bar-room one day, he offered to wager that he could look directly at the sun longer than any other living man. There were three or four professional sports sitting around, one of whom promptly offered to cover any amount which he might wish to put up, provided he was allowed ten minutes to produce a contestant. The terms having been accepted, the stakes were put in the hands of a third party. The “sport” went out of the room, and soon returned, accompanied by a rather dilapidated looking individual who said that he “reckoned he could look right smart.” At the same time, he stated that he did not wish to risk blindness in both eyes, but was willing to venture one of his optics in any good cause. The party went out into the sunlight, and the man who had proposed the wager looked steadily at the orb of day for a number of seconds that was actually surprising. When pain compelled him to lower his gaze, the “dark horse” which the gambler had brought forward covered one of his eyes with his hand, and, raising his head, apparently looked at the sun without being in the slightest degree affected. He easily surpassed the record of the first gazer, and the confidence man claimed and received the stakes. The stranger reluctantly acknowledged that he had fairly lost his money and departed much chagrined. Probably he is not aware to this day that the man who had excelled him had only one eye and was looking at the sun through a glass substitute for the one which had been removed.
BOTTOM DEALING.
This term, as understood among gamblers, refers to that method of dealing which consists of drawing a card from the bottom of the pack instead of, or at the same time with, one from the top. I once met a gentleman at St. Louis, who had been a physician of some standing, but who had yielded to his gambling instincts to such a degree that he had lost not only his money, but also his self-respect. We will call him Doctor Rodman. As an illustration of the inveteracy of his passion for play, I need only mention the fact that one night, while engaged in a game of poker, I saw him draw from his mouth his artificial teeth, which were attached to a gold plate, and offer to stake them for $2.00.[2.00.] He claimed to be a professional, and undertook to enter into a partnership with me. I asked him to indicate what was his “strong-hold” in the line of a professional card sharper. He said that he was as good a “bottom dealer” as there was[as there was] in the country. I sat in a room while he was playing and watched him closely with a view to ascertaining how much he knew about running the cards from the bottom of the pack. I soon saw that while he could draw two cards at the same time, one from the top and the other from the bottom, he did it so clumsily that the operation was accompanied by a resounding thwack, sufficiently loud to attract the attention of every player at the board. When he left the table and came into the open air, I told him that an idea had just occurred to me, through working which he and I together might beat the world at playing poker. I added that I knew it to be a “sure thing.” His interest was awakened at once, and he impatiently asked me to tell him what my project was. “Well,” said I, “Doctor, I have a horse pistol right here in my pocket. I’ve noticed your skill as a bottom dealer, and I believe if you will only give me a signal when you intend to draw a card from the bottom of the pack, I’ll fire off my gun at the same time, and so fully attract the attention of every man in the room that nobody will notice what you are doing. At all events nobody will hear that horrible noise that you make in practicing your little game.” The doctor’s face fell, and I have never been able to tell why, from that moment forward, he always appeared to avoid my company.