“Not in this case,” asserted the gambler, with vehemence. “Something, for good or ill, is going to happen to me and make a decided change in my affairs. If the worst comes, you are the one man I know whom I can trust.”
Seeing that Gentleman Jim was deeply impressed by his forebodings, the scout remained silent. For a long time they sat, smoking and gazing thoughtfully into the wreathes of vapor that floated about them.
“What a fool a man can sometimes make of himself!” the gambler exclaimed abruptly. “Five years ago I was a physician, in an Eastern city, with a large practise, a loving wife, a happy home—everything a man could need to have comfort and make life a success. The gambling fever took hold of me—perhaps it was in my blood, and had to come out. Be that as it may, I neglected my practise for the cards, losing—losing all the time—money, friends, reputation. My wife’s people heard how I was going, and took Alice away from me. I promised to do better, and she came back. Once more I went to the dogs, and she left me for good. Getting together the remnants of my fortune, I sent the pitiable sum to Alice, then I came West and made gambling my profession. I have tried to be square, and have been fairly successful. But what is it all worth, Buffalo Bill, compared to the love and companionship of a woman? There is no happiness for me, and never has been since I cut away from every tie that made life worth living.”
The gambler, stirred by some slumbering impulse, got up and once more began pacing the room.
“This,” he went on, “is what the cards have done for me. They have robbed me of everything that made existence worth while, and here I am in Sun Dance, an outcast, a pariah, a human bird of prey that wrings the wherewithal to live from the honest toil of others. I—I——”
He stopped, one clenched hand lifted in air. The hand dropped nervelessly, and he broke off with a bitter laugh.
“What’s the use of crying over spilled milk?” he added. “I have made my game, and I must play it through. What I have said, Buffalo Bill, is between ourselves. No other man has ever heard it from my lips before—and I speak now because I trust you.”
“Your trust, Gentleman Jim,” returned the scout, with feeling, “shall not be betrayed.”
The gambler started to say something more, then suddenly wheeled about and peered through a window.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed, startled. “The stage is coming into camp, and it looks as though they had had trouble of some kind.”