Melville Davisson Post

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      "Bumgarner," he said softly, "you are a frightful example of man's neglect. You have been trained by a Massachusetts Yankee. Ergo, your lack of knowledge is sublime. Bitters you might put in a plebeian gin fizz, and be happy thereafter. Bitters you might put in a high ball of whiskey, and live thereafter. But bitters in a julep, magnum sacrum! the gods would crush you! Bumgarner, you are an awful throbbing error, and you have had a providential escape from death. Now," continued the Major, seizing the Chinaman by the shoulder and turning him toward the door, "you may depart, and burn a few joss sticks, and ponder upon my remarks."

      The almond-eyed Celestial vanished, wondering vaguely if it had not been better to remain in San Francisco and launder shirts in a cellar than to attempt to cater to the depraved taste of such incomprehensible foreign devils.

      "Now, Bill," continued the Major, seating himself at the table, "I want to know what you are going to do."

      "About what?" asked the gambler.

      "About this money which you owe the State," said the Major. "Do you realize, sir, that our stand in the Southwest is just about closing, and that we have got to square up and pull out?"

      "I reckon so," replied the gambler, as though it were a matter of no importance.

      "You reckon so! You irresponsible truck horse! You reckon so!" snorted the Major. "You will cease to indulge in the dainty pastime of speculation when you get a log-chain on your leg and a striped suit on your back."

      The Secretary of State laughed. "Something will turn up," he said.

      "Ambercrombie Hergan," said the Major, pounding the table with his hand, "for a broken, a branded, a long-suffering cow pony of Satan, you have the blindest, most stupendous Presbyterian faith in Providence of any white creature ambling south of the Central Pacific Railroad; but you're sweetening on a bluff this hand, and I am going to call you."

      The gambler's face grew serious. "What are you prodding for, Ned?" he asked.

      The Auditor leaned forward on the table. "You are planning to slide out," he said, "and it don't go."

      "Would it hurt you or Al?" asked the gambler anxiously.

      The Auditor reached over and placed his hand on Hergan's arm. "It would not hurt me," he continued, "and it would be no bones if it did, but it would hurt the boy, and he must not be hurt. Don't you know that the moment you are gone, Randal will sacrifice everything he possesses and pay up the deficit? And that would ruin him."

      The gambler's face lengthened. "I had not thought about that," he said slowly, "but you are right, he would do that. He is that sort of a man. I have been a fool, an infernal fool, but I did not think about the boy getting hurt, not once." The man shut his teeth tight together and the big muscles swelled out on his jaws.

      The Auditor sat and watched the man across the table from him, and admired his iron nerve in the terrible struggle to decide between himself and the welfare of his friend. The man was evidently suffering. His face showed it plainly; the battle must be a bitter one. The Auditor wondered how it would result. He pitied the man, and in spite of all, half hoped that he would decide to save himself.

      Presently the gambler turned slowly and lifted his face, white, haggard, ten years older than he had been an hour before.

      "I don't see how to keep him from doing it," he muttered; "I don't see how."

      The Auditor started. This man had not been thinking of himself at all.

      "You see," continued Hergan. "I am about fifty thousand short, and there is no way to raise that much money,—no way in God's world. If I slide over the Rio, Al will pay it to keep them from extraditing me; and if I stay here, he will pay it to keep them from sending me to the Pen. It's the devil's own trap, and works both ways."

      "Who got the money, Bill?" asked the Auditor.

      "Crawley, and old Martin, of the Golden Horn Mining Company. Crawley got most of it."

      "A plague of fat old gamblers," said the Major, solemnly; "they are both as rich as they are mean, and as mean as they are crooked."

      At this moment the door opened and the Governor entered.

      IV

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      The Executive stopped for a moment and scrutinized his visitors quizzically; then he laughed. "May I inquire, gentlemen, whence arises this gloom?"

      The Auditor bowed low. "Good sir," he said, "your Excellency fails to distinguish between gloom and the gravity of sages."

      "If the funereal," replied the Governor, "be a sine qua non of the converse of the wise, then there has been here this night great cause for envy on the part of Solomon, the Son of David, King of Israel; for such gloom I have not met with in a world of evil days."

      "And, sir," responded the Auditor, waving his hand like a barbaric king, "if absence of respect for the dignity of the thoughtful be a symptom of organic mental defect, then there is now here, in truth, great cause for envy upon the part of Wamba, the Son of Witless, the Son of Weatherbrain. For such amiable impudence is marvellous to contemplate."

      "Boys," said the gambler rising, "if you will kindly come down out of the clouds, I will be much obliged to you both, because I have got something to say, and this is just as good a time to say it as any."

      The Auditor resumed his seat at the table. The Governor took up a chair, moved it back deliberately into the shadow of the room and sat down.

      "It is like this," continued the gambler, "we three have stood in for a long time, and I guess we know each other pretty well. We did n't take no oath to stand by each other when we started, but I reckon that is what we calculated to do. Anyway that is what we did do. If we had n't a done it, we would n't have been deuce high in this Southwest. I did n't have no faith in Al's machine when it started; I thought it was a wild goose chase, but I did n't say nothing, because I had nothing to lose. I was broke, and anything coming my way was pure velvet, so I joined in and come out here.

      "Since that time we have had our ups and downs, if God's creatures ever had 'em. We have lied a lot, and we've stole some, and we've starved most of the time, and we have been poor and miserable and broke, but we have played fair with each other, and we have never stacked the pack nor dealt from the bottom. Then, one day, the luck turned and we won out through the roof, just like it always does if you stay long enough and keep doubling the bet. You two were elected, and Al appointed me.

      "I reckon none of us are going to forget the hell that appointment raised. They said I was an ignorant understrapper, a short card gambler, and a leary element; and it was true, every blooming word of it Then the newspapers pitched into Al; they said that it was to be hoped that the new Governor would now have 'the moral courage to at least suppress the shady member of his machine'—them are the very words; I'll never forget 'em, and they meant me.

      "I guess I went to you boys, and told you I had better keep out, but I reckon I did n't put up a very stiff case, because I was hot at the row. I would n't have cared if the howlers had been better men than I was, but I knew they were all just the same kind of cattle—unbranded, straggling steers, gathered up from anywhere but a good place. As for being shady, there was n't a man between the Gila and the Pecos white enough to pass an Eastern grand jury, and as for being a gambler, there was n't a mother's son of the batch that would n't have coppered his soul on a black jack if the bank would have cashed it for a dollar."

      Hergan paused for a moment and looked at the Auditor. Then he added, "Exceptin' of course, you and Al."

      "Then," the gambler went on: "I guess Al got mad. He made a little speech; we was all there, and it was mighty good talk to hear. He said there had n't been no 'invidious distinctions'—them were his words,—during all the years when nothing had come our way but just one dose of bad luck after another until we reckoned there was n't no God at all,—least ways, if there was any, that He did n't