by Max Brand
14
The lantern went out in the tent; she was asleep; and when he knew that,Donnegan went down into The Corner. He had been trying to think out aplan of action, and finding nothing better than to thrust a gun stupidlyunder Landis' nose and make him mark time, Donnegan went into Lebrun'splace. As if he hoped the bustle there would supply him with ideas.
Lebrun's was going full blast. It was not filled with the shrill mirthof Milligan's. Instead, all voices were subdued to a point here. Thepitch was never raised. If a man laughed, he might show his teeth but hetook good care that he did not break into the atmosphere of the room.For there was a deadly undercurrent of silence which would not toleratemore than murmurs on the part of others. Men sat grim-faced over thecards, the man who was winning, with his cold, eager eye; the chronicloser of the night with his iron smile; the professional, ever debonair,with the dull eye which comes from looking too often and too closelyinto the terrible face of chance. A very keen observer might haveobserved a resemblance between those men and Donnegan.
Donnegan roved swiftly here and there. The calm eye and the smooth playof an obvious professional in a linen suit kept him for a moment at onetable, looking on; then he went to the games, and after changing thegold which Jack Landis had given as alms so silver dollars, he lost itwith precision upon the wheel.
He went on, from table to table, from group to group. In Lebrun's hisclothes were not noticed. It was no matter whether he played or did notplay, whether he won or lost; they were too busy to notice. But he cameback, at length, to the man who wore the linen coat and who won soeasily. Something in his method of dealing appeared to interest Donnegangreatly.
It was jackpot; the chips were piled high; and the man in the linen coatwas dealing again. How deftly he mixed the cards!
Indeed, all about him was elegant, from the turn of his black cravat tothe cut of the coat. An inebriate passed, shouldered and disturbed hischair, and rising to put it straight again, the gambler was seen to beabout the height and build of Donnegan.
Donnegan studied him with the interest of an artist. Here was a man,harking back to Nelly Lebrun and her love of brilliance, who wouldprobably win her preference over Jack Landis for the simple reason thathe was different. That is, there was more in his cravat to attractastonished attention in The Corner than there was in all the silver laceof Landis. And he was a man's man, no doubt of that. On the inebriate hehad flashed one glance of fire, and his lean hand had stirred uneasilytoward the breast of his coat. Donnegan, who missed nothing, saw andunderstood.
Interested? He was fascinated by this man because he recognized thekinship which existed between them. They might almost have been bloodbrothers, except for differences in the face. He knew, for instance,just what each glance of the man in the linen coat meant, and how he wasweighing his antagonists. As for the others, they were cool playersthemselves, but here they had met their master. It was the differencebetween the amateur and the professional. They played good chanceypoker, but the man in the linen coat did more--he stacked the cards!
For the first moment Donnegan was not sure; it was not until there was aslight faltering in the deal--an infinitely small hesitation which onlya practiced eye like that of Donnegan's could have noticed--that he wassure. The winner was crooked. Yet the hand was interesting for all that.He had done the master trick, not only giving himself the winning handbut also giving each of the others a fine set of cards.
And the betting was wild on that historic pot! To begin with thesmallest hand was three of a kind; and after the draw the weakest was astraight. And they bet furiously. The stranger had piqued them with hisconsistent victories. Now they were out for blood. Chips having beenexhausted, solid gold was piled up on the table--a small fortune!
The man in the linen coat, in the middle of the hand, called for drinks.They drank. They went on with the betting. And then at last came thecall.
Donnegan could have clapped his hands to applaud the smooth rascal. Itwas not an affair of breaking the others who sat in. They were allprosperous mine owners, and probably they had been carefully selectedaccording to the size of purse, in preparation for the sacrifice. Butthe stakes were swept into the arms and then the canvas bag of thewinner. If it was not enough to ruin the miners it was at least enoughto clean them out of ready cash and discontinue the game on that basis.They rose; they went to the bar for a drink; but while the winner ledthe way, two of the losers dropped back a trifle and fell into earnestconversation, frowning. Donnegan knew perfectly what the trouble was.They had noticed that slight faltering in the deal; they were puttingtheir mental notes on the game together.
But the winner, apparently unconscious of suspicion, lined up hisvictims at the bar. The first drink went hastily down; the second was onthe way--it was standing on the bar. And here he excused himself; hebroke off in the very middle of a story, and telling them that he wouldbe back any moment, stepped into a crowd of newcomers.
The moment he disappeared, Donnegan saw the other four put their headsclose together, and saw a sudden darkening of faces; but as for thegenial winner, he had no sooner passed to the other side of the crowdand out of view, than he turned directly toward the door. His carelesssaunter was exchanged for a brisk walk; and Donnegan, without makinghimself conspicuous, was hard pressed to follow that pace.
At the door he found that the gambler, with his canvas sack under hisarm, had turned to the right toward the line of saddle horses whichstood in the shadow; and no sooner did he reach the gloom at the side ofthe building than he broke into a soft, swift run. He darted down theline of horses until he came to one which was already mounted. ThisDonnegan saw as he followed somewhat more leisurely and closer to thehorses to avoid observance. He made out that the man already onhorseback was a big Negro and that he had turned his own mount and aneighboring horse out from the rest of the horses, so that they wereboth pointing down the street of The Corner. Donnegan saw the Negrothrow the lines of his lead horse into the air. In exchange he caughtthe sack which the runner tossed to him, and then the gambler leapedinto his saddle.
It was a simple but effective plan. Suppose he were caught in the midstof a cheat; his play would be to break away to the outside of thebuilding, shooting out the lights, if possible--trusting to theconfusion to help him--and there he would find his horse held ready forhim at a time when a second might be priceless. On this occasion nodoubt the clever rascal had sensed the suspicion of the others.
At any rate, he lost no time. He waited neither to find his stirrups norgrip the reins firmly, but the same athletic leap which carried him intothe saddle set the horse in motion, and from a standing start the animalbroke into a headlong gallop. He received, however, an additional burdenat once.
For Donnegan, from the second time he saw the man of the linen coat, hadbeen revolving a daring plan, and during the poker game the plan hadslowly matured. The moment he made sure that the gambler was heading fora horse, he increased his own speed. Ordinarily he would have beennoted, but now, no doubt, the gambler feared no pursuit except oneaccompanied by a hue and cry. He did not hear the shadow-footed Donneganracing over the soft ground behind him; but when he had gained thesaddle, Donnegan was close behind with the impetus of his run to aidhim. It was comparatively simple, therefore, to spring high in the air,and he struck fairly and squarely behind the saddle of the man in thelinen coat. When he landed his revolver was in his hand and the muzzlejabbed into the back of the gambler.
The other made one frantic effort to twist around, then recognized thepressure of the revolver and was still. The horses, checking theirgallops in unison, were softly dog-trotting down the street.
"Call off your man!" warned Donnegan, for the big Negro had reined back;the gun already gleamed in his hand.
A gesture from the gambler sent the gun into obscurity, yet still thefellow continued to fall back.
"Tell him to ride ahead."
"Keep in front, George."
"And not too far."
"Very well. And
now?"
"We'll talk later. Go straight on, George, to the clump of trees beyondthe end of the street. And ride straight. No dodging!"
"It was a good hand you played," continued Donnegan; taking note that ofthe many people who were now passing them none paid the slightestattention to two men riding on one horse and chatting together as theyrode. "It was a good hand, but a bad deal. Your thumb slipped on thecard, eh?"
"You saw, eh?" muttered the other.
"And two of the others saw it. But they weren't sure till afterward."
"I know. The blockheads! But I spoiled their game for them. Are you oneof us, pal?"
But Donnegan smiled to himself. For once at least the appeal of gamblerto gambler should fail.
"Keep straight on," he said. "We'll talk later on."
