The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 19, 1902, Page 15

\ THE SUNDAY CALL. Ugerngss of ert Howard Russeli these yere queernesses of the Old Iready been y' harassin’ up the mighty likely sh when Dave’s myster'ous ac- in the Red Light sort gs to a climax, an’ a over- feelin’ it can b'ar no talk to remember this vere ight o'casion, for jest prior to Dave slermin’ us by becomin’' meelodious, fur- bein' wholly onnacheral to that a-way—thar's a callow pin- rty comes caperin’ in an’ takin’ Enright one side, asks can he ze Wolfville as a strategic p'int he's gotn’ to pull of. out to elope & whole lot explains this yere pin- to Enright, ‘an’ I aims to ay. I'm a mighty cautious sport, an’ before ever 1 hooks up for ac- over any trail, I rides her wice to locate wood an' water, camps. Said system may morous, but it's shore safer I asks ag’in whether you-all ctions to me elopin’ into my beloved, like I sugests. t to spring no bridals on a on- camp hs eve feather pa: cinch the p or an’ p seem plent out n t, wherefore I precedes these yere queries.’ call for you to strates Enright; ‘the w would be to round up paternal gent, an’ get his gent,’ says the pin- X when you lay a-way, shore does se't But if you was to ry it some it would be und complex. See yere!' goes T party, beginnin' to roll ou-all impresses me as ge casyooalities. u think of this?” An exhibits a bullet t forearm, the same bein’ of says Enright. the pinfeather ‘you cal sion plead- h 1 tackies opens on me ever 1 ends the s. Nacheraily 1 Whi ne he for entions nonce t on eart More old uptials. after her pla her the t o- mebby that time he's ¥ mean m that said whatever t shows you what,” party. ‘He gets the I opens my mouth, an as I states, I begins to half indorsements. I be I right?' ight, rubbin’ his fore'- ‘it shore would look a leetle set ag'in you. ponsible chief of this like to hear why you- s kons W e is a good vlace to e t s'ppose it’s on account of them dr r in Tucson makin’ free w re repoote, an’ lettin’ on we're light a moral that a-way? s the pinfeather account of you ed as plumb peaceful, I first conside r ain’'t a multitood of elope to on account of this vere pinfeather engages him on this ‘swain, er in the 2 an’ come s En- er, s yere tempest tossed got s up like romi ore looks the paused and called zed the advantage glass of peach and ern for the love match. frosty friend, set- s; “we'll pursoo them ¢ Dave's. That Tucson ther story heap,’ verick says some as an’ you on some other day Dave evolves them cadencies in t evenin’, thar's En- along with Dan th entertained by hearin’ Chero- kee Ha s about a brace game he s Vegas one time. fall—this brace I'm herokee, ‘is over on se, I calls this crooked in speakin’ tharof to you- t Iy gamblers none. Pl But between us, ed kyard sharps, a brace game a game is re allooded to as “the old thing.” Which if you refers to a game of chance that a-way, as “the old thing,” they knows at once that every chance is "liminated an’ sald device rigged for mur- Ger.’ “That’s splendid, Cherokee,’ says Faro Nell £rom ber lookout’s roost by his shoulder: ‘give 'em a lecture ils of gamblin’ with stran on the per- s’ “Thar's no game goin’ at this epock Ckerokee nifies his willin'ness to be- come instructis Not that I'm no beacon, neither;” says Cherokee, ‘on the rocky, wreck-sown of sport; an’ not that 1 ever re- scrts to onderhand an’ doobious deals myse’'f ill 'm ecap’ble of plintin® out them Cange Scientists of my sort, no matter how troo an’ faithful to the p'int of honor, is bound to savey these kyard decplicities in their uttermost depths or get left dead on the fleld of finance. ery gent should be hone But more than honest—speshully if he's out to buck faro bank or set in on casyocal games of short k; gent should be wise. In them amoosements 1 mention: merely honest can't be considered a com- plete equipment. Wherefore, as I states veretofore, while 1 never makes a crooked play, an’ don't pack the fernaija to do, I'm plenty astoote as to how tricks is turned. ** “Which sports has spesh ame. other folks. Thar’s Texas Thompson, his speshulty is ridin’ a hoss, while Peets’s speshuilty is shootin’ a derringer, Colonel Sterett’s is pol'tl right's is jestice, ards—every par so0 said Then thar's the “‘punch” to mark a deck, an’ the lookin' glass to catch the kyards as they're dealt. Then thar’'s sech ma- noovers as stackin’ a deck and shiftin’ a cut an’ dealin’ double. Thar's gents who their work from the bottom of a deck—puts up a hand on the bottom, an’ confers it on a pard or themse'fs, as dove- tails with their moods. He's a one-arm party—shy bis right arm, he is—who deals a hand from the bottom the best I ever beholds: as I observes, it’s his speshulty. does o, I don’t regyard crooked folks as dangerous at poker, only you've got to watch ‘em. S0 long as your eye is on ‘em a-heap attentif, they're powerless to per- form their partic’ler miracle, an’ as a re- suit—since that's the one end an’ aim of their efforts—they becomes plenty inoc- uous. As a roole, crooked people ain’t good players on the squar’. An’' as long as you makes 'em play squar’, they're shore yours. “ ‘But speakin’ of this yere devious per- son on the Las Vegas Plaza that time: The outfit 1s plumb onknown to me—I'm only a pilgrim an’ a stranger in the camp an’ don’t intend to tarry none—when I sets up to the lay-out. I ain’t got a bet down, however, before I sees the gent who's dealin’ sign-up the ven to the o himse'f in a far corner of the room an’ ain’t been noticin’ nobody an’ nobody’'s been noticin’ him. All at once in tones which is low, but a heap discordant, Dave hums to himse't something that sounds like: Bye, O babe, lie still and slumber, Holy angels gyard thy bed. “At this Cherokee nacherally, an’ in a horrified w stops an’ we-all looks at each other. Enright makes a disparin’ gesture toward Dave an’ says: ' *‘Gents, first callin’ your attention to the fact that Dave ain't over-drinkt, an’ that no nose paint theory is possible in accountin’ for them acts, T asks you for your opinions? As you knows this yere thing’s been goin’ for'ard for some time, an’ I desires to hear if from any stand- p'nt of public interest that a-way, do you- all figger that steps should be took?’ “In order to fully onderstand Enright in all he means, I oughter lay bare that Dave's been conductin’ himse'f in a man- ner not to be explained for mighty likely she’s eight weeks. Yeretofore thar’'s no more sociable sport an’ none who's sys- tem is easier to savey in all Wolfville than Dave. While holdin’ himse't at what you might call ‘par’ on all o’castons, Davs is still plenty minglesome an’ plumb whereof he cuts the trail. One day ne won't drink; an’ the next he's tippin’ the cdnteen from sun-up till he’s claimed by sleep. He acts like he's a heap rattlcd. Which he gets us plumb distracted; one can keep a tab on him. What with them silences an’ volyoobilities, sobrieties an’ days of drink, an’ all in bewilderin’ al- ternations, he's shore got us goin’ four ways at once. “‘In spite of the fact,” says Dan Boggs ag'in, when we're turnin’ Dave's conduct over in our minds an’ rummagin’ about for reasons; ‘in spite of the fact, I say that I'm posted in advance that I'm up ag'inst a gen’ral shout of derision on ac- count of me bein’ sooperstitious, I'm yere to offer two to one Dave's hoodeoed. Moreover, I can name the hoodoo.’ “ ‘Whatever is it then? asks Texas Thompson; ‘cut her freely loose an’ be shore of our solemn consid’ration.” “‘It's opals,’ says Boggs. ‘Them gems, as every well instructed gent is aware, is the very spcrit of bad luck. Dave's wearin’ one in his shirt right now. It's a opal pin he decks himse’f out with while he’s relaxin’ with nose paint In Tucson. I'm with him at the time. I says to him: *‘“Dave, I wouldn't mount that opal no game limits itse’f to sellin’ licker, bein’ plenty careful not to drink none himse'f, his contractin’ destinies don’t offer no field for bad luck. In less time than a week his wife leaves him; an' that drink shop wherein he officiates is blown down by a high wind. That barkeep emerges from the rooins of his domestic hopes, an’ that gin mill, an’ endows a lady of his ac- quaintance with this yere ornament. ain’t twenty-four hours when she cuts loose and weds a Mexican. Which by this time, excitement is shorely runnin’ high, an’ you-all couldn’t have found that citi- zen in Socorro with a search warrant who declines to believe in a opal’s bein’ bad -do1jour 1By} JO 910)s AI[PMIf Y} SuUNI o luck. On the hocks of them catastrophies it's the common notion that nobody better own the opal; an’ sald malev-lent stone, in the dooal capac’ty of a curiosity an’ a warnin’, is put in the seegyar case at the Early Rose s'loon. The first day it's thar a jeweler sharp comes in for his drinks— olis an’ knows about diamonds an’ sim’lar jumcracks, same as Peets does about med- icine—an’ he considers this talisman, scrootinizin’ it plumb clost. “ ‘Do you-all belleve in the bad luck of opals? asks a pard who's with him. ¢ “This yere ain’t no opal,” says the Dave's is being married, Jack Moore's 1s upholdin’ law an’ order, Boggs's is bein’ superstitious, Missis Rucker's is bakin’ powder biscuits, an’ Huggins's is strong drink.’ w Cherokce tever is my speshulty ske Faro Nell, who's as immersed as ihe rest in them settin’s forth; ‘what do you- all reckon now is my speshulty? *Bein’ the loveliest of ur sex, an’ we-all Cherokee, a heap emphatic, strings our game with hi “That puts the drinks on me,’ says Faro Nell, blushin’ with pleasure, an’ she” signs-up Black Jack for the nose paint *“‘As I observes,” goes on Cherokee, ‘ev- ery sport has his speshuity. Thar's Ca- sino Joe; his is that he can “tell the last four.” Nacherally, bein’ thus gifted, a game of ca like so much money in the bark for Joe. Still, his gifis ain’t crooked; they're genius; Joe's simply born able to “tell the last four. 'Which, of course, you gents is famil- iar by repoote at least with the several plans for redoocin’ draw-poker to the pro- saic level of shore-things. the “bug” an’ the leeve hold-out” an’ dozens of other schemes for playin’ a cold hand. An’ thar’s optimists, when the game is easy, who depends wholly on a handkerchief in their laps to cover their nefariousness. If I'm driven to counsel a gent concernin’ poker, it would be to never play with strangers; an’ particlar to never spec’late with a gent who sneezes a lot, or turns his head an’ talks of draughts of cold alr invadin’ the place, or says his foot’s asleep an’ gets up to stampede about the room after 2 hand is dealt an’ prior to the same bein’ played. It's four to one an’ a half this yere afflicted sharp is workin’ a hold-out. ino is + crimes; an’ thar you be. case-keep, an’ Instanter I feels like T'd known that bevy of bandits since long be- fore the war. Also, I realizes their meth- , after I takes a good hard look. That dealer's got what post gradyooates in faro-bank robbery calls a “end squeeze' ba the deck is trimmed—'‘Wedges” is the name—to put the ends ag'in the mid- dle, sanded so as to let two kyards come at a clatter whenever said phenomenon is the demanded by exigencies of their No, it's a fifty- two-kyard deck all right, an’ the dealer depends on “puttin’ back” 'to keep all straight. Which I'm driven to concede that the put-back work of sald party is like a romance; puttin’ back’s his spesh- ulty. His left hand would sort o’ settle as light as a dead leaf over the kyard he's after that a-way—not a tenth part of a seccnd—an’ that pasteboard would come along, palmed as I says, an’ as his hand floats over the box, like he's goin’ to make the next turn, that kyard would re- assoome its place inside. An’' all as smoothly serene as pray'r meetin's.’ *‘An’ nacherally, you denounces this yere felon,’ says Colonel Sterett, who's come in an’ who's integrity of the active sort. * ‘Nacherally I don't say a word,’ re- torts Cherokee. ‘I ain’t inhabited these vere regions, remote as they be from them best ideals an’ high examples of the East, not to long before have learned the excellence of that maxim about lettin’ every man kill his own snakes. I says nothin’; I simply looks about to locate the victim of them machinations with a view of goin’ ag'inst his play —' “I's when Cherokee arrives at this place in his recitals that Dave evolves his interruptions. He's been camped by fraternal with the balance of the herd, an’ would no more think of donnin’ airs or puttin’ on dog than he’d think of blastin’ away at us with his gun. Yet, as I states, eight weeks prior, thar shorely dawns a change. “Which the first symptom—the advance gyard, as it were, of Dave's gettin’ quesr, is when Dave's standin’ in front of the postoffice. Thar's a far-away look to Dave at the time, like he’s just heard some news an’ he's trying to set- tle whether he’s behind or ahead on some deal. While thus wropped in this yere fit of abstraction Dan Boggs comes hy- bernatin’ aiong an’ asks Dave to p'int into the Red Light for a smell of Valley Tan. Dave sort o’ Touses up at this, an’ fastens on Dan with his eyes, half truc- ulent an’ half amazed; same as if he’s shocked at Dan’s familiarity. Then he sort o' shakes his head decisive. “‘Don’t try to braid thi§ mule’'s tail none,’ says Dave, plumb haughty, an’ strides off with his muzzle in the air. Boggs is confoosed. “ ‘“Which these yere insultin’ bluffs of Dave's,” says Boggs as we canvasses the play a bit later, ‘would shore have cut me to the quick, but I knows it ain’t on the level. Dave ain’'t himse'f when he de- clines sald nose paint—his intellects ain't in camp.” “This yere ontoward an’ onmerited re- buke to Boggs is followed by further breaks as hard to fathom. Dave ain’t ‘two days alike. One time he’s that inso- lent he actooally passes Enright himse’f in the street, an’ with no more heed or recognition than if Wolfville's chief is the last Mexican to come no’th of the line. Then ag'in Dave is effoosive an' goes about riotin’ in the s'clety of every gent none. Which all opals is implacable hoo- doos that a-way an’ it'll shore conjure up your roofn.” “‘But I might as well have addressed that counsel to a buffalo bull for all the respectful heed I gains. Dave gives me a grin, shets one eye plenty cunnin’ an’ say ‘Dan, you're envious. You wants that ornament yourse'f an' you're out to try an’ make me diskyard it in your fa- vor. Sech schemes, Dan, can’t make the landin’. Opals that a-way is as harmless as milk. Also, I knows what becomes my looks, ‘an’ while I ain’t vain, still, bein’ married as you're aware, it's wisdom in me to selze every openin’ for enhancin’ my charms. The better I looks, the bet- ter Tucson Jennie loves me, an’ I'm,out to retain that lady’s heart as my own. “‘No, T ain’t onbendin’ in no response,’ goes on Boggs. ‘Them accoosations of Dave about me honin’ for said bauble is plumb oncalled for. I'd mo more pack a opal than I'd cut for deal an’ embark on a game of seven-up with a ghost. As I states, the luck of opals is black.” “I was wont to think so,” says Enright, “but thar once chances a play, the same comin’ off onder my personal notice, that shakes my convictions on that p’int. Thar's a broke down sport—this yere's long ago while I'm briefly sojourning in Socorro—who's got a opal. an’ puts it in hock with a kyard sharp for a small stake. The kyard gent says he ain't alarmed none by these charges of opals bein’ bad luck. It's a ring an’ he sticks it on his little finger. Two days later he goes broke ag’in four jacks. This terrifies him; he begins to believe in them evil in- fluences of opals. He presents this jew- elry to a bar-keep, who says, since his Jeweler sharp, lookin’ up; “it’s glass. “‘An’ so it is. This baleful prop’sition has been sailin’ ‘under a alias; it ain’t no opal more'n a Colt's cartridge is a hard- boiled egg. An’, of course, it's plain them divers .an’ several catastrophies, from the loss of that kyard gent’s bank roll down to them Mexican nuptials of the fll-advised lady to whom I alloodes, ean’t be laid none at its door. The whole racket shows an' shakes me to that de- gree that to-day I.ain't got no settled views on opals, wether for black or ‘white.” ‘‘Jest the same, I think its opals that's the trouble with Dave,’ declar's Boggs, mighty obstinate, ‘an’ while the rest of us can’t yoonite with him, we re- cetves his view serious an’ respectful so’s nét to jolt Boges's feelin’s. “Goin’ back, however, to that Red Light day when Dave sets up the warble ot ‘Bye, O Baby! that a-way, followin Enright's s'licitation for our thoughts, we-all gets a heap still an’ makes no re- sponse. Enright asks ag’in: “ “What do you-all think?" ““At last Boggs, who as I sets forth for- mer is a nervous gent, an’ one on whom silence soon begins to prey, speaks up. Bein’ doubtful an’ mindful of Enright’s argyment ag’in his opal story blufr, Boggs don't advance his concloosions at all emphatic. In a tone like he's out ridin’ for information himse'f, Boggs say: “Mebby, if it ain’t opals—it's a case of straight loco.” “ ‘While I wouldn’t think Dave’s locoed readily,” says Enright, ‘seein’ he’s on- common firm on his mental feet, still it's shore something. An’ bein’ it is some- It, s possible, as you say 1at off his b " “ ‘Whatever for a play it would ve,’ says Cherokee se’f rizht now? “‘I'd be some slow to go ar < Dave him= \bout propoundin’ sech surmises to Dave,’ says Boggs. ‘He might get hostile; you can put a wager on it, he'd turn out dis: ble to a de- gree if he did. > s got to handle a loonatic with gloves, I knows a gent who tangles f with a loona~ tic, askin’ questions, an up. “ I reckons, however,” says Cherokee, ‘that T'll assoome the resk. Dave an’ me’s friends, an’ I allows if I goes after him in ways both soft an’ careless, so as not to call forth his suspicions, he'll take it good-humored even if he is locoed.’ “We-all sets breathless while Cherokes w'anters down to where Dave's camped, ‘wropped, as I says, in them melodies. *“ “Whatever be you hummin’ toones for, Dave? asks Cherokee, all accidental like. “ ‘Which I'm rehearsin’,” says Dave, an’ he shows he’s impatient. ‘Don’t come pesterin’ me with no questions,’ goes onm Dave. ‘T'm like the ancient Romans; I've got troubles of my own; an’ no sport who calls himse’f my friend will aggri= vate me with any ontimely inquis'tive- ness.’ Then Dave gets up a heap proud an’ stilted an’ pulls his freight an’ leaves us more onsettled than at first. “For a full hour we does nothin’ buf canvass this yere question of Dave's aberrations. At last a idee seizes us. Thar’s times when Dave's been seen caucusin’ about with Missis Rucker an® gets all chewed s, Doc Peets. Most likely one of 'em's able to shed a ray on Dave. By a excellent coincidence, an’ as if to he'p us out, Peets comes in just as Texas Thompson su’gests that mebby he’s qualified to on~ ravel the mystery. “‘Tell you-all folks what's the matten with Dave?” says Peets. ‘Pards, it's sim- ply not in the deck. Meanin’ no disre- spects—for you gents knows me too well to dream of me harborin’ anything but feelin's of the highest regyards for one an’ all-I'll have to leave you camped in your original darkness. It would be breakin’ professional confidences. Shore, 1 saveys Dave's troubles an’ the causes of them vagaries of his; jest the same the traditions of the medical game forces me to hold 'em sacred an’ secret.” “‘Tell us at least, Doc,” says Enright, *‘whether Dave’s likely to grow voylent. If he is, it's only proper that we arranges to tie him down.’ ‘“‘Daye may be boisterous later,” saye Peets, an’ his reply comes slow an’ thoughtful, like he’s considerin’; ‘he may make = joyful uproar, but he won't wax dangerous. “This yere's as far as Peets'll go. He declines to talk longer on professional grounds. ‘ “Which suspens. this a-way,” saye Boggs, after Peets pulls his freigat an’ leaves us no wiser than when he shows In the door, ‘makes me desp'rate. I'll make this motion: Let’'s all prance over in a bunch an’ demand a explanation of Missis Rucker. Dave's been talkin’ to her as much as ever he has to Peets, an’ thar no professional hobbles on the lady; she’ free to speak.” ‘We waits on you, madam,’ says En- right, when later, some ten minutes, Boggs, Cherokee, me an’ Texas Thomp- son is in the kitchen of the O. K. res- tauraws where Missis Rucker is slicin’ salt hoss an’ layin’ the foundations of supper; ‘we walts on you to ask your advice. Dave Tutt’s been carryin’ on in a manner at once doobious an’ threatenin’. Which it ain’t too much to say that we-all fears the worst. We comes now to invite you to tell us all you knows of Dave an’ what- ever it is that so onsettles him. Our ides is that you saveys a heap about it.” ** ‘See yere, Sam Enright,’ retorts Missls Rucker, pausin’ over the salt hoss, ‘vou aln’t doin” yourse’f proud in this. You better round up this herd of inebriates an’ get back to the Red Light. Thar nothin’ the matter with Dave Tutt; least- wise {f it was the matter with you, you'd be some improved. Dave Tutt's a credit to this camp: never more so than now; the same bein’ a mighty sight mern I could say of any of you-all an’ stick to the trooth.’ ‘Then you do know, Missis Rucker,” says Enright, ‘the secret that’s gnawin’ Dave? “ ‘Knows it,” replies Missis Rucker, ‘of course, I knows it. But I don’t prope: to discuss it none with you tarrapins. I ain’t got no patienc h dolts. Now, you-all is yere, however, I'll give you notice, that to-morry you can begin to do your own coo. till you hears further from me. I'm gol be other- wise engaged. Most likely I'll be back i my kitchen ag'in in a day or two: but I makes no promises. An’ ontil sech times as I shows up, vou-all can go scuffle for vourse'fs. T've shore got more important dooties jest now than cookin’ chuck for you.” “As Missis Rucker speaks up plumb vigorous, an’ as none of us has the nerve to ask her further an’ take the resk of turnin’ loose her temper, we lines out ag’in for the Red Light an’ no cl'arer than when we starts. « 'Ot course. T could ask her more ques- tions,” says ight, ‘but gents, I shore didn’'t deem it wise. Missis Rucker is & most admirable character; but I'm sooper- stitious about crowdin’ her too clost. Like Boggs says about opals, thar's plenty of bad luck. lurkin’ about Missts Rucker if you only goes about its development the right wa; “ “Which the sityooation is too many for me,’ says Boggs. goln’ up to the bar for & drink. ‘T gives it up. I ain’t got & notion left onless it is that Dave's runnin’ for office. That is, T would entertain sech a notion, only thar ain’t no, office.” “The next day Missis Rucker abandons her post; an’ we, feedin’ ourse’fs, sort o keeps us busy, an’ we don’t find much time to discuss Dave. Also, Dave disap- pears; both Dave and Missis Rucker fades from view. “It’s about fourth drink time the evenin® of the third day an’ most of us is in the Red Light. Thar's a gloom overhangs us like a cloud. Mebby it's them oncertain- ties which envelopes Dave; mebby it’s be- cause Missis Rucker's done deserted an’ left us to rustle our own grub or starve, Most of us is full of presentments that something’s doo to happen. All at once Dave walks in. A sigh of relief goes up, for the glance we gives him shows he's all right—sane as Enright—clothed an’ in his right mind as set forth in_ holy writ. Also, his countenance is a wrinkle of glee. “ ‘Gents,’ says Dave, an’ his air is that patronizin’ it would have been exasper- atin’ only we're so relieved, ‘gents, I'm yere to seek congratulations an’ set ‘em up. Peets an’ that motherly aneel, Missis Rucker, allows I'd be of more use yera than in my own house, so I nacherally floats over. Coupled with a su'gestion that we drink, I want to say that It’ boy, an’ that I names it Enright Peets