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GAMBLING WITH FATE
By WILLIAM WALLACE COOK
Author of “The Gold Gteanerj : A Story of the Cyanide
TanKj,” “ Witby'j T>an." “Hij Friend the Enemy,"
" Hotferj qf Tiutte.” Etc.. Etc.
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<Copyritfhl, 1W3, bj William Wallace Cook )
D
. . (Qqntinucd from last week.)
CHAPTER III.
DARRELS GAME AT HAWKBILI/S.
Properly equipped with a stony dis
regard for human greed and frailty,
any observer could have loitered in
Hawkbill’s on and after ten p. m. and
been certain of exciting entertainment.
A philosopher of another school might
have seen more than enough to point
a moral and adorn a tale and perhaps
have retreated with a discouraged
flense of man's inhumanity to man.
Darrel could lie indifferent and hard,
or sympathetic and yielding. Deep In
his heart was ever a feeling that
stirred at another's misfortune and his i
moods varied with the characters of the
players as well as with the play.
He stood close to a table, facing the j
door and dividing his attention be
tween the fall of the cards and the j
men who entered. An old, old game ;
familiarly known as “two pluck one’
was in progress, wherein a pair of
merciless campaigners were taking
money from a beardless and rash youth
who sat between them.
Cheating, on the part of the gam
blers, was constant and flagrant. But
the boy had eyes for only his own
cards and was playing with absorbed
and tremulous intensity.
“Tb«v’Il have headlines on me in
the eastern papers.” he recklessly
averred, “unless I make a big winning
to-night.”
“There’s no telling when the luck;
’ll turn,” answered one of the gam
blers insinuatingly, “shifting a cut”;
with lightning quickness. “It's all
chance, you know. Up to now I’ve
won, but from this out it may be your
turn.”
The youth clenched his teeth and
whitened, for he had a loser’s grudge
against a winner’s assumed superior- j
ity. He wagered the last of his money
—a dozen crisp bills marked with a
*‘C” in one corner.
He lost. Rising from the table with j
the quiet remark, “I’m done, gentle
men," he walked steadily out Into the
darkness, far beyond the glare of the
reel lamp*.
It was the old story of the moth and
the flame. Darrel knew it well, hut
not so well that familiarity bred any
thing but d< per and more consuming I
pity.
He wes r.t t!. youth's back in time
to snatch a : shooter from his con
vulsive hand.
i “Come, come,” he said, as the boy
:gave n str.rtlrd cry and turned on him.
““Where is your manhood, young fel
low?”
“Manhood!" was the hitter response,
“‘ask the red, white and blue chips at.
Hawkbill’s. Give me that, or by—”
With a plunge he sought to catch th“
weapon and tear it from Darrel's grasp.
"Softly!” warned the other, clutching
his hand. “If 1 get your money back
for you will you promise never to touch
another card so long as you live?”
“Who are yon?” gasped the youth.
“'My money is gone and 1 am ruined.
How can you get it hack for me?”
“Follow me and you will find out.
As to who 1 am. that is beside the
question. Have I your promise?”
"Yes; but 1 should like—”
“Here’s your revolver. I’d throw' it
away, if I were you.”
Darrel pushed the weapon into the
young man’s hand, turned sharply and
retraced his steps to Hawkbill’s. The
two gamblers were still at table.
What Darrel purposed doing called
for skill and courage. Both qualities
were his and he sought the issue with
that airy confidence to which others
had often attributed his success.
It was by m dd ir. ; in a somewhat
similar way that he had earned the
hatred of Murgatroyd. Yet that had
not cured him of the dangerous habit.
He had observed the gamblers care
fully. One was past middle age and
had iron gray hair and beard; the
other was but littb1 elder than the
man they had victi: D.ed.
“Well. Sturgis,” th-> younger man
was sayim a Dan ! enroe up, “if we
could find some one else with a roll
this night’s work would break the rec
ord.”
“You're never satisfied, Cliff,” re
turned Sturgis, tos> i ;■ off the contents
of a glass just brought by a waiter.
“Ma> 1 sit in with you, gentlemen?”
Inquired Darrel, pie-i <ant)y.
At that moment he looked the un
sophisticated and ingenious eastern
gentleman, caring nothing for a little
money and desirous only of whiling
away tin time. As he spoke, he dis
played a large roll of bills.
“1 had thought of quitting," said
Sturgis, shooting a glance at his con
federate, “but still, if you want a
round, 1 guess 1 could accommodate
you. Do you want to take a hand?”
he added, carelessly, to the other gam
bler.
“1 might,” returned Cliff, with ap
"NOW THEN, MY BUCK," (’HIED A
VOICE WITH PASSION, "WE'LL
SETTLE OUR DIFFERENCES MAN
TO MAN."
parent reluctance. "I'm not having
much luck to-night, though.”
"Three will make it more interest
ing,” observer! Darrel, dropping into
a chair that placed him so he could
still watch ihe entranee.
Thereupon the playing began, the
youth whose battle Darrel was fight
ing, approaching the table and watch
ing eagerly. Darrel allowed the two
harpies to win enough of his money
to give them confidence, then careless
ly proposed that they play for a stake
consisting of all the money they had
about them.
Certain of winning, the other two
agreed, and from that moment to the
end of the game Darrel showed him
self the veteran player he was. Stur
gis purposely dealt him three aces and
himself fouv queens, the younger man
dropped out in feigned despair and
Darrel plucked a diamond stud from
his shirt and laid it on the heap of
gold and silver.
From various parts of the room a
general movement of the idly curious
had set in towards that particular
table, which made it necessary for
Darrel to request, in his politest tones,
that those between the table and the
door should draw aside in order that
he might watch for the entrance of “a
man he was waiting for.”
The request was compiled with Be
hind his chair Darrel could hear the
sharp, tense breathing of the boy.
Sturgis asked how much the diamond
•tud was worth and. when informed,
borrowed $.">00 from Hawkbiil Hen
derson, $200 to meet Darrel's bet and
SHOO to "raise” him. Darrel took a
magnificent watch from his vest pock
et, the gold case studded with gems.
“1 am a stranger here,” said he,
quietly, “and this is as far as 1 can go.
What have you?"
Sturgis exultantly spread out his
four queens. Darrel laid down four
kings and an ace.
"Take your money," said he, turning
to the boy.
A growl of rage came from Sturgis
Catching up his opponent's discard he
turned the pasteboards over.
“Tricked!” he shouted, springing
erect. “He had three aces and dis
carded two! Hawkbill, I demand the
stakes.”
Henderson, red-faced, bull-necked
and corpulent, swaggered closer.
"This place is on the square," he
said wheezingly to Darrel, “and if
you've juggled the cards the stakes go
to Sturgis.”
Leaning forward with a quick move
ment. Darrel swept his hand under
the edge of the table in front of Stur
gis. Sturgis tried to stop the hand,
but was not quick enough.
The hand reappeared with a small,
nickel-plated contrivance known as a
table “hold out.” A murmur passed
through the crowd.
“Sturgis has been >• 'n. that all
evening,” remarked ■; i. coolly.
"He cheated that boy out of his money
and—”
With an imprecation. Sturgis hurled
himself towards Darrel, a gleaming
object in his mind. Hawkbill threw
himself in the way and ordered Sturgis
to keep back.
It was evident that the baffled gam
bler had friends who would rally to
his side and Darrel swept the stakes
into his hat. clapped the hat on his
head and caught the boy by the arm
and hurried him out.
At the hotel the young man's money
was returned to him. Tears stood in
his eyes ^is he thanked Darrel and the
latter, gruffly bidding him remembei
his promise, went out into the dark
; street intent on returning to Hawk
bill’s and waiting for Murgatroya.
CIIAPTKn IV.
DARREL'S ENTOENTER WITH
st run is.
As time mellows the perspective of
past events, so it blurs and modifies
the characters of those who made
them. Much of the glory of Anaconda
has depurted and Sandy Bar has gone
the way of the “played out” mining
camp, yet tradition deals generously
with the exploits of Nate Darrel—often
too generously.
The strange features of his feud with
Murgatroyd were sufficiently incred
ible in cold truth; and when the out
line of the facts faded with a lapse
of years, imagination was drawn upon
to sharpen the reminiscences. The
added material was not always to Dar
rel's credit.
Yet no one who now remembers Dar
rel will ever tell you that he tried to be
anything but a gentleman. If the part,
was beyond him, it was solely the fault
ot his unfortunate vocation.
In any other walk of life his sterling
qualities of mind and heart would have
claimed their tribute of respect and fa
cial position. A man who belie' : ■ ;<
his fate was of his own makin ■ ! '
hardly have been ignorant of t li: 1
passion for play was too deeply in
grained in his nature. The notoriety
he had courted and won, in any other
profession would have been the mill
stone that pulled him under.
The recovery of the boy's money
aptly illustrates Darrel’s character.
He could not see anything wrong in
turning the tables on the blacklegs
and it was a pleasure for him to be
able to do it.
He played an “honorable” game; and
he considered it honorable to worst a
couple of sharpers at their own tac
tics.
as ne mane ms way DacK along tne
straggling street toward Hawkbill
Henderson’s lie was warily watchful.
Recent events had taken his attention
somewhat from his main purpose in
coming to Sandy Bar and the murder
ous Murgatroyd might lie lurking any
where in the shadows or dogging his
steps.
The wheezy tones of fiddles, guitars
and a bass-viol, accompanied by hoarse
shouts. laughter and a fall of dancing
feet echoed from a building across
the way. Other buildings along the
street were aglare with light and rife
with a clink of glasses, a rattle of
poker chips and boisterous cries of
drinkers and players.
There were few on the street at that
moment and Darrel passed rapidly on
in the direction of the gambling place.
Abruptly a form hurled itself across
his path from a dark space between
two shanties on his left
Instantly a revolver was in his hand.
"Now’ then, my buck,” cried a voice
sharp with passion, ‘‘we’ll settle our
differences man to man.”
“We have no differences to settle.
Sturgis,” returned Darrel, relieved and
not a little surprised. He was looking
for Murgatroyd, not Sturgis.
The gambler was in a blind, unrea
soning fury. In the light of later
events it was patent that Darrel had
set a trap for him and beaten him
and his confederate at their own game.
When a man like Sturgis has Bueh
a grievance there is but one way in
which the score can be settted. Stur
gis was fiercely determined and Dar
rel was quick to comprehend his peril.
A flaring lamp in front of the dance
hall opposite cast a dim light over the
scene. The field was clear for the en
counter, no one being abroad in the
street apart from the two concerned.
Rigidly erect, the two men stood, re
volvers ready and swinging at their
sides, their eyes alert and watching
catlike each other's slightest move
ment.
"You're either the devil himself oi
8.*.., »*)utrhid) otiweeii uii> teeta.
instil could play the game you did with
oui being one or the other. It wa.'
Dai;cl's discard you threw into the
I denut.ood, and you sat between ClifI
am; ...e and helped yourself to just
v hat . uu wanted out of the pack.”
I)a..d laughed a little at that. It
wasi. . the first time his phenomena]
skill ...id led a gambler to confound
him c.ih the arch fiend.
o 1 re a bungler, Sturgis,” said he
“am. i.ave yet to learn the first rudi
men' of your profession. I bavt
tarn . i you a lesson and if you want tc
live . >ng enough to profit by it you’l
put tat gun in your pocket and tak<
I yourself off.”
An ex ‘.sj:crated cry fell from Stur
; is' r Kccklesaly he threw himsel:
if. .... ra.sing the six-shooter to i
.tvel with his eyes.
There was no blood on Nate Darrel’s
hands. In his whole career he hat
never found it necessary to protect hi:
life by taking another's.
His ready wit and his wonderfu
strength -which his slight form in t
manner belied—had times out of mint
been his bulwarks of self-defense. Hi
had a horror of bloodshed and carriet
a revolver in humble demonstration o
the theory that leads great nations t<
build great navies—hoping to make thi
arbitrament of war still more remote.
By coming to Sandy Bar in quest o
Murgatroyd he had faced an issue a
direct variance with his inclination?
He was well aware that fatalities wer
almost certain to result; if he wer
the victim, no aching void would b
left in the world, while if Murgatroyd
tell the cause of humanity would be
advanced.
But he wanted no exchange of shots
with Sturgis. He had threatened, but
it was with the forlorn hope of avoid
ing a clash.
As the irate blackleg plunged for
| ward. Damd threw himself to one side.
At that precise moment a shot rang
out from some point at Darrel's rear,
a bullet fanned his cheek and Sturgis,
; with an agonized cry, tossed his hands
: in the air, reeled and fell face down
| ward on the sidewalk.
Darrel was stunned by the sudden
ness of the tragedy. In a second he
had whirled to look back up the street,
but saw no one. Then he did the
worst thing possible for himself by
hastening to the prostrate form and
making an examination.
Sturgis was already dead. The bullet
had penetrated his heart and a stream
of blood flowed from the wound and
formed a pool beneath him.
The shot and the tortured cry of the
dying man bad aroused the people.
From the dance hall they came on a
run, and from Hawkbill’s and other
resorts a half-drunken mob charged
for the scene.
Darrel was found standing over
Sturgis revolver in hand. Sturgis w’as
dead and the habitues of HawkbiU’K
knew that Sturgis and Darrel had
quarreled at cards.
Only one inference was possible.
Darrel drew it as quickly as those
around him.
“Where's the marshal?” he asked,
his c'ce perfectly steady.
His hand tightened a little on the
revolv;: and he retreated slowly until
his hack w'as against the wall of the
nearest building, the half circle of
threatening faces in front.
“We don’t need the marshal,” said
Cliff, savagely. “Jack Sturgis is dead
and you're the one that killed him.
Do we need the marshal, boys?”
He appealed to the crowd. A snarl
ing negativi passed through the ranks
of the crowd and the half circle be
: gan to contract.
i ou u neea me marsnai or tne un
dertaker ” returned Darrel. His voire
was of velvet but it cut like steel.
I “When I open my gunplay, what 1
miss ii; the original deal 1 try to make
tip in the draw. 1 am Nate Darrel, of
San Frnnrisro. Some of you have
probably heard of me and may know
that my word is as good as my bond.
I did not kill that man—”
His declaration was drowned in a
derisive jper. He knew he would not
he believed so he was not disappoint
ed.
“I did not kill that man.’’ he re
peated with deliberate emphasis, “and
if yon force me to fight for my life for
whatever happens you alone will ir
responsible. 1 want the marshal and
am willing to be put under lock and
key until the coroner has a chance to
sift this affair. That’s all you can ex
pert of me.”
Every man in the rabble carried a
revolver and every revolver had leaped
from pocket or holster.
"Shooting’s too good for him!”
shouted some one at the rear of the
crowd.
The veiled suggestion was grasped on
the instant. It was well for l>arrel.
since it turned the mob's attention to
a rope instead of a bullet and would
consume more rime in the execution.
Messengers were dispatched here and
there, but before anything could be
done a burly, broad-shouldered man
parted the ranks of the rabble left and
j right and reached Darrel’s side.
“Give me that gun!” he demanded
1 curtly. “I'm the marshal.”
Darrel yielded up the weapon with
out a word.
“Now,” cried the marshal, “this fel
low goes to the lock-up, without any
ifs, nor ands, nor whyevers. There
ain’t a man of you that packs the nerve
to stop me and you know it. Scatter
from in front of us and clear the trail!’
There was nothing in the marshal’s
bands to enforce the order. He was
j known to be a man of few words anc
prompt action, however, and the crowc
j sullenly parted.
Then, with his arm in Darrel’s th<
j marshal started his prisoner for t.h'
Jail. The rabble, muttering wilt
threats and chafing with baffled rage
tagged at their heels
(To be continued.)
j , “
Ed McKinney was shot and kill
e«l accidentally at Texarkana, whih
playing with Henry Roden with t
gun they did not know was load
ed.
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