"Well, the game continued to go Feeney's way, and Carmody just looked at his contracts as Feeney began to edge them nearer and nearer to his end of the table. Carmody, while he figured that the contracts were so much velvet, didn't look happy when Feeney picked $12,000 more out of them, leaving their value to Dan only an approximate $47,000, but he played on in the hope of better luck. Finally a queer hand came around. Carmody caught two queens, an eight and a seven. So did Feeney. This thing made Carmody mad.

"'Of all the n.i.g.g.e.ring out I ever saw,' he exclaimed, 'this is the worst. But it's about time I had the best of it when it comes to pure bull-head luck.'

"So he bet the limit that he had a better card in the hole than Feeney.

Feeney came back at him every clip, and when I interposed a remonstrance over the heftiness of the game, expressing the opinion that both of them would probably be sorry they had gone into the thing so heavily when the gray dawn came around, they said they knew they'd be sorry, and went right ahead.

"'This is surely the hottest case of a stand-off in a deal in stud that I've seen yet,' said Feeney, 'and I shouldn't be surprised if we had to split the pot when the show-down comes. But I'm as good as you, Carmody, on the four that show, and I'm with you all night if you're going to keep it up that long.'

"When my tab of the shifting value of the contracts showed that Carmody's interest therein was only an even $30,000, Carmody looked up at the ceiling of the card-room and reflected.

"'Here,' he said, 'is where I get my contracts back and break even, or where I have to go into partnership with a slow-witted Irishman on those buildings at The Dalles. Feeney, I call you.'

"Feeney turned over a six spot. Carmody's card in the hole was a five.

Feeney was the possessor of a half interest in Carmody's fine contracts at The Dalles, and that's how it happened that these two builders, who had always gone it singly and alone, built up The Dalles in partnership.

They got along so well together at The Dalles work that three years later they went into a general contracting partnership and they've been getting rich ever since. But it was their stud game on The Dalles boat that induced me to conclude that old-fashioned draw was good enough for me."

THIS MAN WON TOO OFTEN.

_With the Result That His Clothes Finally Went into a Pot, and Fortune Scowled upon Him._

"When a man arrives at that pitch where he'll bet the clothes off his back over a jackpot, it's about up to him to let the game of draw alone, in my opinion," said a traveling special agent of the Treasury Department. "I'm talking about a game of draw that happened last fall down in the Territory, on the south bank of the Canadian River, in the Chickasaw country, between four St. Louis men. They were on their annual hunting trip down there. They were well-known business men of old St.

Loo, pals of a half a lifetime, and they had been after bear, deer, feathered game, or any old thing shootable down in the Territory every year together for more than a decade. They always played poker on these outings, too, and the bank president always got all the money. The other three couldn't do anything whatever with the bank president's brand of poker. They'd been digging at him on these excursions for ten years, trying every conceivable scheme to get his money, and even playing in combination against him, but when it came time to strike camp he always had all the money in the crowd, owned all the camp fixtures, and served out smoking tobacco to his three chums in a lordly way only when he felt generous. It made 'em hot, but they had to accept his alms if they wanted to smoke.

"The three of 'em determined when the party set out from St. Louis in their special car last autumn that the bank president wasn't going to come back from the hunting trip with all the money, even if they had to leave his bones to bleach on the banks of the Canadian. They declared together that the bank president's sa.s.siness for the remainder of the year after eating them up at poker down in the Territory was something unbearable, and they didn't intend to stand for it any more.

"They played a little poker in their car on the trip down from St.

Louis, and this gave one of the three conspirators a chance to get hold of the bank president's two decks of cards. The conspirators carefully marked these two decks of cards-marked 'em both just the same way-and then, during the temporary absence of the bank president in another part of the car, he elaborately explained to his two companions in infamy how he had done it, the three going over the bank president's two decks in detail, so as to master the markings. Then the two decks were returned furtively to the bank president's grip, and the rest of the playing on the trip down was done with ordinary packs. They never played big on these journeys, anyhow, but reserved their stiff games for the bad-weather days in camp.

"When they got to their point of debarkation on the line, they left their car on a siding and struck out for their regular camp, about seventy-five miles from the railroad. They stuck to the bagging of pelts and antlers for a week or so; then a threatening morning came along and the bank president suggested poker.

"'What's the use?' they all demurred, eying the bank president gloomily.

'You always get the whole works, and then you're insufferable for the rest of the year. We don't think you're on the level, anyhow.'

"'Oh, I'll give you all a chance this time,' said the bank president, grinning. 'I won't be hard upon you. Then, you see, the more you fellows play with me in the game, why, the more you learn about poker, and I'm sure the instruction you get helps you a lot in your games with the dubs up in St. Loo. I'm noted, anyhow, for my generosity in giving others the benefit of my wisdom.'

"'Well,' said the spokesman and arch-conspirator of the three, 'we'll play a little game of table-stakes, but checks don't go; this thing of the three of us writing you checks that keep your large family in opulence for a year is'--

"'All right, let it be table stakes,' replied the bank president amiably. 'I'm not a man to take bread out of the mouths of the impoverished,' and with more of such badinage the game started.

"An ordinary deck was used at first-a deck out of the satchel of the real estate man, the infamous member of the conspiring trio who had marked the bank president's cards. The bank president, as usual, had all of the luck from the jump. He seemed to rake down every pot. The three glared at him and made all sorts of insinuating remarks about the phenomenal luck of the bank president that had continued for a dozen years. The bank president regarded them indulgently, and told them they'd learn the elementary principles of the game after they'd camped with him for another ten years or so.

"After an hour's play the bank president beat the real estate man-the other two had dropped out-out of a stiff jackpot with a pair of better threes, and the real estate man simulated great rage and tore the deck of cards into many pieces.

"'For heaven's sake, give us another deck!' he exclaimed, pa.s.sionately, with a furtive wink at his two companions in crime.

"The bank president reached back of him, collared his grip, and produced one of his decks with a bland smile. They surely were scientifically marked, for this bank president had an eye in his head, and he didn't get next.

"'Well, we'll try one of my decks,' said the bank president. 'Of course, it'll be a shame to plug you with a new musket-none of my decks has been riffled yet-but maybe my unfamiliarity with the range of the fresh gun'll give you all a show at me.' Oh, this bank president was arrogant in victory, all right.

"Well, he wasn't one, two, three, from then on, of course. It was done mighty well, and not so as to excite the bank president's suspicions in the least, but he found himself topped practically every time, and his face grew long. He was quite heavily in the hole at the end of an hour's play with his own deck.

"'Oh, we've got on to your bluffing style of play, that's all,' said the real estate man complaisantly. 'You just had us scared together for the past ten years, but you're as clear a proposition now as a mountain creek. I always thought you were more or less of a counterfeit and a four-flusher, anyhow, didn't you, fellows?'

"Of course the other two thought so, too, and the bank president's brow clouded as, time after time, after he had bet hard on hands that looked to him to be worth every dollar he ventured on them, he found himself topped, n.i.g.g.e.red out. The real estate man increased the bank president's worry by flashing a nine-high straight against the financier's eight-high straight, and then the latter did a card-tearing stunt himself. He ripped his deck into ribbons with a running commentary of strong talk.

"'It must be a rank deck that'll permit of a set of amateur skates like you fellows putting it on me,' he said. Then he dug into his grip again and produced the other 'phony deck, his three companions warning him against letting his angry pa.s.sions rise, and so on.

"The three conspirators let the bank president pull down a couple of sizable pots with this deck just for the sake of enjoying his renewed impertinence, and then they went at him good and hard. At the end of an hour they had the bank president's supply of ready cash-about $500-badly wilted. He had only $100 left when it came around the real estate man's turn to dish out a jackpot round. The bank president was under the gun, as they say out there of the man who's to the left of the dealer of a jackpot, and he cracked the pot open for the limit. The other two stayed, and when it got up to the real estate man he raised it the limit. This knocked his two confederates out of it-as a matter of fact the arch-conspirator winked them out of it-but the limit was just what the bank president wanted with his four bullets.

"The bank president took one card with a crafty, I'll-make-him-think-I'm-four-flushing expression of countenance. The real estate man, with a queen-high sequence flush of hearts remarked that the bunch he had was good enough for him. Then they got to betting, and it was no time at all before the bank president had done the apology act with the remains of his $500. He pulled out a check-book then and was fumbling around for a fountain pen when the real estate man called him down.

"'Not on your life,' he said. 'Agreement was that checks don't go, you'll remember.'

"'But this hand'--the bank president started to say.

"'Makes no difference about that hand,' interrupted the real estate man.

'Agreement was for table stakes.'

"'But, great Caesar, man,' pleaded the bank president. 'I want to get some kind of a decent run for this hand. Why, I'd bet the clothes right off my back on it.'

"'Well,' said the real estate man calmly, 'we didn't make any stipulation about clothes and personal possessions, and you can get the clothes off your back if you want to. But no checks.'

"'Well,' said the bank president, peeling off a big solitaire ring, 'this stone's worth $400, and I'll raise you that much.'

"'I see you,' said the real estate man. 'What else have you got that I can raise against?'

"'Well,' replied the bank president, 'this watch is worth $300 and'--

"'Skate it in,' interrupted the real estate man. 'Raise you $300 then, your valuation of the ticker.'

"'Dog-gone the luck,' said the bank president, 'I don't want to call you. I know I've got you beat. I'd be willing to bet my corduroys, shoes and hat that I've got you soaked, for'--

"'Rush 'em to the center, then,' calmly replied the real estate man.

'Supposing I appraise the corduroys, shoes and hat at $50 for the bundle. That satisfactory?'

"'It's got to be,' replied the bank president mournfully.

"'All right, then, put 'em in the pot and I'll consider that you've called me,' said the real estate man.

"The bank president stood up, peeled off his coat and waistcoat and hunting breeches and dropped them on the blanket that served for a table. Then he removed his pair of high hunting shoes and placed them on top of the clothes, and tossed his fore-and-aft cap on the heap. Then he sat down in his underclothes, picked up his four aces, and said:

"'Now, dern you, put down your little straight or full and I'll show you what you're up against.'

"The wealthy depositors of the St. Louis bank of which he was the head would have enjoyed seeing his face when the real estate man calmly laid down his sequence flush and hauled down the pot, togs and all, without a word.