Front matter (continued 6)

Pinchback got our valises together, and a start was made. A drizzling rain was falling, and the darkness was so great that one could not see his hand before his face. Each of us grabbed a valise except Pinch, who carried along the faro tools. The walking was so slippery that we were in the mud about every ten steps, and poor Pinch he groaned under the load that he carried. At last he broke out:

"Tell you what it is, Master Devol, I'll be dumbed if this aint rough on Pinch. Ise going to do better than this toting along old faro tools."

"What's that, Pinch? What you going to do?"

"Ise going to get into that good old Legislature; and I'll make Rome howl if I get there."

Of course I thought at the time that this was all bravado and brag; but the boy was in earnest, and sure enough he got into the Legislature, became Lieutenant-Governor, and by the death of the Governor he slipped into the gubernatorial chair, and at last crawled into the United States Senate.

He did me a good turn when he got up in the world, and true and high honor did not dim the kindly feeling he had for me. I had been playing on the Jackson Railroad, and my luck had been good; but I was satisfied, from certain ominous signs, that a big kick was brewing. To avoid trouble I got off the train a few miles before reaching the city, and had been in town a day or two when the Chief of Police sent for me.

Of course I responded, when he told me, "Devol, you have beat one of the Police Commissioners out of $800, and he says you shan't live in the city."

"I have lived in the city too many years to be run out by any one man."

Thinking it best to have this matter settled, I went to my old friend Bush, and we took a hack and drove to the executive mansion. Pinchback, my old boy, was Governor then; and though it was late at night, he insisted on calling us in, woke up all the servants, and set out a royal lunch, with all sorts of liquors, and we had a high old time. "Go to bed, George," he said, "and don't give yourself any uneasiness. I'll settle that fellow in the morning."

That was the end of the $800 Police Commissioner.

A GOOD STAKEHOLDER.

Sherman Thurston, my old friend, is dead. He has passed in his checks, shuffled his last cards, dealt his final lay-out, and been gathered to the gods. He was an honorable, great-hearted man, and I can recall the time when no living man could do him up in a rough- and-tumble fight. Cow-boy Tripp was once doing the playing for me on the Missouri Pacific Railroad; and as I saw Sherman, I said to him:

"See that conductor? I've got a little game going on here, and a first-class sucker in tow. Now the conductor is watching us very closely, and as soon as he sees him put up his money, he will walk up and stop the game. What I want you to do is to go and sit alongside of him, and entertain him until the lawful proceedings are over."

Tripp opened up the game, and the sucker put up his stuff; and sure enough the conductor made a rush to stop the game. But Sherman grabbed him by the waist and held him as you would a baby, and kept on talking all the time, telling him not to have any fuss, that he didn't want to see any trouble, etc.

Sherman Thurston was the best stakeholder in America. He was death to coat-tail pullers. He had a way of acting as if he was in a terrible passion, and coming down on their feet with a stamp that made them lie quiet.

Sherman was a man of hard sense and native resources that rendered him ready for any emergency. Once when we had won some money from a man, he began to raise a fuss and carry on like one bereft of reason. Sherman humored him. He locked him up in the car, and told everybody that he was a lunatic that he was removing to the asylum—to keep away from him, as he was dangerous and entirely irresponsible. Then when the fellow got too noisy, Sherman went and said, "See here, old fellow, you had better keep still, for gambling is a penitentiary offense in this State, and you are just as much implicated as the man who won your money."

That settled it, and the man quieted down as mild as a pet lamb.

SHE KISSED ME.

A woman's heart-rending shriek rang through the cabin of the steamer Huntsville one afternoon, as she lay taking in wood. I was standing on the guards watching the jolly, happy negroes as they seized the huge sticks and ran to the music of their camp-meeting hymns and piled it near the engine. Rushing back, I saw that a little girl had fallen overboard into the water. Losing no time, I jumped overboard and got ashore with the little one. When I carried her, dripping and wet, to her parents, who stood on the gang- plank, the mother caught the baby in her arms and nearly smothered her with kisses; and my turn came next, for she began to hug and kiss me, pouring forth her gratitude; but I pushed her away, as I did not want her husband to see her kiss me. The little one was taken into the ladies' cabin and dry clothes put on her, and the father came down and wanted to recompense me, but I would not have it, for I said, "I have only done what I would for any child that was drowning." Years afterwards I met the young lady and her father traveling on one of the New Orleans packets. She had grown to be a beautiful young lady, but her mother had been dead many years.

THE TRICK KNIFE.

There are a great many devices, some of which are very old, some a little more modern, and some new ones are being manufactured every day, to catch the uninitiated, all of which are more or less successful—for there are just as many suckers to-day as there were forty years ago.

I remember seeing a knife that was so constructed that the blade could not be opened without pressing upon springs. It had one spring that if pressed would allow the blade to open; and there was another spring that would lock the first one so that it would not work, and when the second spring was used, no one could open the blade with the first spring alone. Like most tricks, this knife racket took two persons to work it successfully. The one with the knife would be dressed up like a countryman, and he would go up to a person who he thought could be played for a sucker, and enter into conversation with him. Finally he would show the knife, and explain how to open the blade when locked with but one spring.

About this time the capper (a well dressed man) would come up, and the country looking fellow that owned the knife would say to the sucker, "There comes a fellow; say nothing to him about the spring, and we will win some money."

The capper would take the knife and try to open it, then he would say, "That is a dummy; it was not made to open."

The owner of the knife would then say, "Yes, it can be opened."

Then the nice man would try it again, and finally he would offer to bet that no man could open the knife in ten or fifteen minutes. The sucker would take him up; and as he did not know anything about the second spring, of course he lost his money.

I did not have any use for such contrivances, as old monte was good enough for me; but I always tried to keep posted on all the tricks and schemes, so as to be able to down the schemers at their own games.

Bill and I went on board the steamer Bart Able, bound for New Orleans, late one night. I was tired and sleepy, so I told Bill I would go to bed. He said he would take a smoke, and then join me. I had not been in bed but a few moments, when a black boy called me and said that my partner was in trouble in the barber shop. I was up and into my pants in a moment. I grabbed old Betsy Jane and started. When I arrived at the shop door, I saw two fellows standing over Bill; one had a big pocket-knife, the other had a poker. I did not stop to inquire what the trouble was about, but rushed in, struck the fellow with the knife, and as the fellow with the poker started to run I let him have one, and they both measured their lengths on the floor. I turned to ask Bill what the d—-l the fellows were after him for, when they both jumped up and lit out. Bill said:

"Well, George, I'll tell you. Them fellows took me for a sucker, and bet me $10 that I couldn't open a big knife they had; but, George, I knew how to open her just as well as they did, and I won their money. They wanted me to give it up; but when I saw the black boy start after you, I thought I would hold on until you came, then I knew they would get left—didn't I, George?"

"Yes, Bill; you bet you won't have to give up when I'm around."

"George, them fellows took me for a sucker. Do I look like a sucker?"

"No, Bill; you look like a nice, smart counter-hopper," I replied.

Bill laughed and said, "George, I'm $10 better off than I would have been if you had not got here just in time; let's take something and then go to bed."

The fellow dropped his big knife, which we found on the floor; so that he was out $10 and his knife by tackling—not a sucker, but one of the oldest and best sucker-catchers in the country.

TWO-FORTY ON THE SHELL ROAD.

During the war, after Ben Butler took possession of New Orleans, the city was always full of Union officers and soldiers. Money was very plentiful, and of course everything was lively. I was running the race-course and gambling games out at the lake, and was making big money. I had nineteen good horses. Some were trotters, some pacers, and some runners. I would drive out and in over the shell road, which at that time was one of the finest drives in this country. I did not allow any one to have a faster horse than myself, and generally drove a pacer, as the road was very hard, and would stove up a trotter in a short time. I had a very pretty bay mare that could pace in 2:30 every day in the week, and she had beaten fourteen other horses at the State Fair in 2:261/2. I drove "Emma Devol" (the bay mare) most of the time. I had a big black horse called the "Duke of Orleans," which was faster than "Emma Devol," but I hardly ever drove him on the shell road, as I kept him for the race-track.

I was driving the "Duke" out on the road one evening, when I overtook a big fellow by the name of Jim Dueane, who was a lieutenant of police at that time. He was a good, clever fellow when sober, but very quarrelsome when drunk. He was driving a good horse, and I could see he was under the influence of liquor. He asked me where I got the plug I was driving, for he did not recognize the "Duke." I told him it was an old fellow I had bought for $50 to drive on the road, as I did not want to stove up my race-horses. We were about two miles from the lake, when he offered to bet me a bottle of wine he could beat me to the lake. I took him up, and we started. I let him get a little ahead, so I could see how his horse moved.

We were going along in this way for the first mile, when he looked back and said, "Come on, Devol, or you will have to pay for the wine."

I replied, "All right, I will do it, as I do not want to lose the bet."

I gave "Duke" the word, and he got right down to business and passed Dueane so quick that he did not know what to make of the old plug. After I got about 100 feet ahead of him, I looked back and told him to come on or he would have to pay for the wine. He tried very hard to catch me, but it was no use, as "Duke" was not that kind of a horse.

I was at the lake, out of my wagon, and had the blanket on the "Duke of Orleans," when Dueane drove up. I could see that he was not in good humor. He got and hitched his horse, and then we walked over to the hotel to get the bottle of wine. I began laughing at him, and wanted to know what he thought of the "Duke" as a $50 plug, when he let drive at me. I ducked my head, and he hit it a pretty hard lick. I started for him, but some of the officers jumped in between us and put a stop to the fight, and in a little while he apologized and we were drinking together. I could have whipped him, for I was in my prime at that time; but I was glad they separated us, as I did not want to have any trouble with the police.

While we were drinking and talking about the race, a great big colonel of a New York regiment, who was pretty drunk, spoke up and said, "I can whip any man that will do anything to Dueane."

I knew he had reference to me; but the room was full of shoulder- strapped fellows, and I did not want any of his chicken pie just then, so I paid no attention to his remarks. He kept on with his abuse, and I was just itching to get at him, but knew I would not stand a fair show unless some of my friends should drop in, which I expected they would do before long, as it was a little early for the town boys.

In a short time a friend of mine, by the name of Joe Summers, and a crowd of New Orleans boys came in. Then I knew I would have a fair show, so I walked up to the big colonel and said, "You are a big lubber, and can't fight just a little bit."

Up went his hands, but before he could lead off I gave him one under the chin, and he measured his length on the floor. My friends were all around us in an instant, and Joe Summers said that it should be a fair fight. I was ready to give him my head when he got up, but the big lubber said, "That will do."

In ten minutes after I knocked him down we were drinking wine together, and no one would have though we ever had a difficulty. He was so big that he thought he could bluff me; but he did not know that I was about the worst man in that part of the country at that time to bluff at any game, more especially at the game of fight—for I would rather have fought than not, and I did not think there was a man living in those days that could whip me in a rough- and-tumble.

We had several bottles of wine on the strength of our little misunderstanding. The result was, we were all feeling pretty good and liberal, and I do believe we opened 200 bottles of wine before 2 o'clock.

There were about seventy-five teams hitched around the hotel, and I knew when their owners started home they would get to racing on the shell road, and some of the horses and buggies would get hurt; so I told a stable-boy to put my horse up, and I would wait until morning. A few of the others did the same thing, but the balance started, and some of them were so drunk that they could not see the road, although it was as white as marble. The next morning after I had eaten my breakfast I had my team brought out, and started for the city. The wine of the night previous had done its work, for I saw seven buggies, or parts of them, strewn along the road. Dueane had run into the toll-gate, and came near killing himself and his horse.

Wine is a great worker when one gets too much of it inside. It gave employment to the buggy-makers, and put me to bed on that occasion; and I was glad of it when I saw the wrecks it had made of my boon companions of the night before.

A MILE DASH.

About the time referred to in the preceding story, the livery business was very good in New Orleans, and some of the livery-men kept quite fast horses, which they would let out to persons they knew would not abuse them. My old friend Dick Barnum was running a stable in those days, and is in the same business to-day; but he is getting old now, like myself, and I suppose he goes to church regularly every Sunday instead of going out to the race-track, as he and I did twenty-five years ago.

I was at Dick's stable one day when he was feeling pretty good, and he began bragging on a horse that he had, and which he called "Tom Parker." I let him blow for some time, when I said to him:

"Dick, you don't weigh more than 140 pounds, and I weigh over 200. I'll tell you what I will do. I will hitch my black horse to a skeleton wagon and put on a bag of sand weighing 150 pounds. You can hitch Tom to a sulky and we will drive our own horses, and I will bet you $250 that I can beat you one dash of a mile around the track."

He said, "Put her up."

We put up the money in Johnnie Hawkins' hands, and agreed to pace that afternoon. The news of the race spread rapidly, and there was a large crowd at the course to see the sport. Henry Foley was in the judge's stand, and we were all ready. The bets were about even, although my horse was handicapped with four wheels to Dick's two-wheeled sulky, and besides I had 350 pounds to his 140. We tossed up for the pole, and Dick won. We went up the stretch and came down for the tap, but Dick wanted the best of it, and was about ten lengths ahead when he went under the wire. I nodded to Henry, so he let us go. Dick went flying from the start, and I eased my horse around the first turn, so that when I got straightened up on the back stretch Dick was 100 yards ahead. The betting was then $100 to $5 in favor of Dick, as they all thought that I could never close up that big gap. I gave old "Duke" one cut across the back, and he went down that stretch like a race-horse, sure enough. We came around the next turn, and when I got square into the home stretch I gave the horse a war-whoop, and we went past Dick so fast that he thought he was tied to the fence. I went under the wire about ten lengths ahead of Dick, and the fellows that had taken some of the $100 to $5 bets raised the yell and kept it up until you would have thought they were a pack of wild Indians. My friend Johnnie Hawkins took all the bets that he could get in that short time.

Dick did not blow about "Tom Parker" any more after that, and when I would ask him if he wanted another race, he would say, "No, George; I would rather take a drink;" and that was about all I was ever able to get out of him. I hope to see the old fellow alive and happy the next time I visit New Orleans; for he is a good, clever fellow, and I hope he will live as long as I do—and I expect to live forever.

MULE THIEVES.

During the time I was running the race-course and my games at the lake I was taken down with the yellow fever, and was confined to my bed for about twenty days. I was about well, and had been sitting up for a few days, when my horse-trainer, and a friend of mine by the name of George Leonard, called to see me; and as I was feeling so much better, they wanted me to go out to the track and time one of my pacing horses with a running mate. So I muffled myself up in a big overcoat and went out. I sat in the buggy and held the watch, but when they came to ask me what time had been made, I was lying in the bottom of the buggy. They took me back to my room, and I was just as sick as I had been any time during the fever. I had the best physician in New Orleans, and he said, after I was out of danger, that if it had not been for my iron constitution he could not have pulled me through. I felt the effects of my last attack with yellow-jack for two years afterward, and I am not afraid of it to-day.

A short time after getting well of the fever, I was at the livery stable early one morning where I kept some of my horses. The stable was owned by my friends William and George Leonard, and they were large dealers in horses and mules. When I arrived the boys were red-hot, for they had sold twenty head of good mules to some fellows the evening before, and had allowed them to put the mules on board of a little boat lying at the landing, on the promise that they would pay the money as soon as the bank opened the next day. The boys had been down to the landing, and had found that the boat and mules were gone. They wanted me to go with them and catch the thieves, so we armed ourselves with pistols and double-barreled shotguns, took a fast packet, and started. About forty miles above the city we saw the little boat lying at the levee, but as we passed, it could be seen that there were no mules on board. We went up about a mile, and then got off and started back a-foot. When we got near the little boat, we saw the mules in a pasture. We "let" down the fence and started to drive them out, when the fellows saw us and came off to stop us. I told the boys to take the mules and I would take care of the d——d thieves. They were coming with their guns out. I pulled my shotgun down on them and told them to halt, which they did. When the boys got the mules on the run up the levee, I followed them, and the thieves followed me. They ran us up into a little town, when they got out a replevy and took the mules. We had a trial and won the case, so we put our mules on a boat and were soon back in New Orleans. The Leonard boys get the money now before they let the stock go aboard a boat.

AN HONORABLE MAN.

Some men are the soul of honor, and if they lose a bet will walk right up to the captain's office and settle; while others are fast enough to make bets, take chances, and all that sort of thing, but when it comes to paying their losses, if there is a hole to crawl out of, they are the very men to do it.

Coming out of New Orleans one time on the steamer Peerless, I was open for business, waiting for somebody to try his luck, when, looking around, I espied one of the leading dry good merchants of the Crescent City, whose place of business was on Canal Street. He asked me the kind of game I was running, and I explained it to him, when my capper came along, and, looking on, made a bet for the drinks that he could turn the jack. The capper won, and we had the drinks all around, when he took the jack and turned up a corner, taking care to let the merchant see what he had done. Then he began bantering me to bet with him. I persisted that I had the best of it, as I had two chances to his one, and was dead sure to win two out of three times. The merchant had often seen me playing short cards and rouge et noir. We kept up a running conversation for some time, till at last I told him that I had never run a game I would not bet on, except this one. Then the capper offered to wager $100 that he could turn the right card.

"Put up your money," was all I said, and I handed mine to the merchant.

Sure enough, he turned the right card, and I unconcernedly remarked, "Well, you got her."

Then the merchant wanted to bet me $100 that he could turn the right card, when I replied:

"I will make just one bet with you for $500."

He began going through his pockets, and only found $425; so I said:

"I'll back out, as I do not know much about the game, anyhow; but if there is any other game you want to be on, why, I am your man." Continuing, I said: "Any other game but this one, I will bet $10,000 on. I pride myself on betting as big as anybody."

"This is the first time I ever knew of your backing out," replied the merchant.

The capper then offered to bet $500, and began to abuse me. He put up his money, guessed the right card, and of course won.

Things were now getting exciting, and my merchant friend was very warm under the collar, and wanted to bet me the $425; but I wouldn't have it, and said in a majestic manner:

"No, sir; nothing less than a cool thousand, as I am now a big loser."

The capper offered to loan the merchant some money to make up the balance, but I would not allow it. At last he put up his watch and diamond pin, and went to turn the jack. Of course he lost. Afterwards he came to me and gave me a check for $1,000, and I returned him his jewelry and money. We stopped for half an hour at one of the landings, and he slipped off and countermanded the payment of the check by telegraph. When I presented the check at the bank I was shown the dispatch, and to this day the check has never been paid, though the merchant still does business on Canal Street. He was an honorable, high-toned merchant.

MY PARTNER WON.

Dunlap and I got on the steamer Paragoad one evening at Baton Rouge, and seeing no one of board that I thought was of any particular service to me, I got a bottle of wine and a good cigar and was sitting in the hall, when a coal merchant whom I knew very well in Baton Rouge came along, and seeing me said:

"Devol, this is rather a slim trip for your business."

Laughingly I replied, "Yes."

"But that don't hinder us from taking a drink together, does it?"

"I have just had one, thank you."

He insisted, and I did not hang back; so, after smoking, we sat down near the bar, when he remarked that this was the first boat he ever was on where they didn't have a game of poker. I thought myself it was something strange, as in those days everybody played cards. At last we got to throwing for the drinks, when he finally remarked that if there were one or two more around we might have a good game of poker. Though I said I didn't care to play, as I was sleepy, yet he persisted. Along came Dunlap, whom he did not know, and I asked him if he ever played poker. He replied a little, when he was at home in Illinois.

"Come on, then, and take a drink," said the coal man.

I gave Dunlap the wink, and excusing himself for a moment he went to his room, and procuring a pack of marked cards gave them to the barkeeper. When he came in, the coal man at once began:

"Sit down, and we'll make up a game."

Then Dunlap asked the barkeeper for some cards, and of course the marked pack was handed out. It was then half-past 12 o'clock. We started in at a $20 limit, and played until the table was needed for breakfast. The coal man and myself were both losers. He said he lost $2,300. I lost $900, but as I lost it to my partner, I was not broken-hearted.

HAUNTED.

One night, anxious to reach New Orleans, I took a stern-wheel boat out of Wichita; and as it was late, the clerk said the only berth he could give me was in a state-room with another man. I crawled into the top berth, and towards morning I was awakened by a noise beneath me. Carefully looking over the berth, I spied the occupant of the lower berth with a long Colt's navy revolver in his hand. His hair was disheveled, and his eye was wild, while his actions indicated that he was hunting for somebody. I lay very quiet, however, thinking that he was either a victim of delirium tremens or a lunatic. At last he arose and opened the door and went into the cabin, the only occupants of which were the porter and the watchman. They lost no time in leaving, when they saw a man clad only in a night-shirt and drawers, with a drawn revolver in his hand.

I arose and dressed, as I had had enough of such a room-mate; and on telling the clerk of the facts, he said:

"That's strange, for I knew the man very well. He never drinks, but he has killed three men."

That settled it with me. He was haunted by the ghosts of his murdered victims.

McCOOLE AND COBURN.

When the McCoole and Coburn fight came on, I left New Orleans for the purpose of witnessing the sport. On reaching Cincinnati, John Franklin invited me to go over to Latonia Springs and see Coburn. I did so, and spent a pleasant afternoon with him. He invited me to come over and keep him company; and as I thought I could turn an honest penny as well as have a little recreation, I packed up my faro tools and went into the dark and bloody ground back of Covington. When any strangers came along, I opened up and caught all that was in sight.

As the time for the fight drew near, a number of Coburn's friends came on from New York. They were glad to see him in such good heart and spirits. They came with a good deal of money to back him up; and as the boys had to do something to while away the weary hours, Joe introduced them to my partner, saying that he was a New Orleans gentleman who had come on to aid me in money matters. Joe called him a planter, and the New Yorkers were so pleased with him that they invited him into a game of poker. The result was that he did them up for a few hundred, and one of the party, who was an old faro dealer, secured a few of the cards, examined them in another room, and coming back, observed:

"Count me out of this game. I don't want any more of it."

That broke things all up; and the next day they began on Coburn and gave him a terrible cursing for steering them against such a game as that, when they came on with good intentions to back him in the fight. They never said anything, however, to Hoy, as they knew he was always looking for the best of every game, and was as ready to fleece a friend as a foe.

When we were going down to Cold Spring, I opened up on the cars and won a little money. Just then a man stepped up and began to get out his money, when Elliott and his gang rushed in, picked up the fellow, and threw him up against the top of the car. When he came down he didn't have a cent. I was amused to see him hunt around for his money.

When we reached the ground I opened out, having a negro to hold the stand for me. At last, as the crowd began to rush for the ring, I told Hoy that I would go and see the fun; so I handed Hoy all my money except a lot of broken bank-notes that I had. This I rolled in a large wad and placed conspicuously in a side coat pocket. I noticed, as I edged close up to the ring, that I was closely eyed by the thieves, and it was not long before the pocket- book disappeared. Then I made a terrible squeal, and when the reporters came around I gave out that I had been robbed of $3,500. The next day the papers all had an account of the robbery of Mr. Devol, of New Orleans. Hazen at last found my pocket-book, which was worth more than the money it contained, and had a good advertisement free.

SALTED DOWN.

If the old saying, "Every man has his price," be true, then every man can be caught on some scheme or trick. There are persons who have never made a bet of any kind in their lives, that would do so if they saw something that they knew to be a sure winner. Then there are others who will bet on many things, but they pride themselves on being too smart to bet on any man's trick; and the more they see others doing so, the more sanguine they are that no one could ever catch them with chaff. I have met many of the latter class, and always tried to down them. They, of course, would not bit at the monte bait, for it was too stale for them; so I would study sometimes for hours how to take the conceit out of them.

I remember being on board the steamer Grand Duke, coming out of New Orleans, at one time just after the Mardi Gras Festival. The boat was crowded with passengers, and we were having a very lively game of monte, when a fellow from the Red River country, named Picket, came up to the table and began pulling coat-tails. He was one of those smart Alecks who knew all the tricks (or at least he thought he did), and he imagined that it was his especial duty to warn others of their danger. If he could not stop them with a tail pull, he would tell them not to bet, as I was a regular gambler and would win their money sure when they thought the sure thing was in their favor; and some of them would not heed his warning, but put down their money, and of course lose it.

I put up with Picket's interference for some time, and then I put up my cards, resolving to down the Red River man if it lay in my power. I invited all hands to join me in a drink, and then excused myself, saying:

"I'm suffering with the toothache, and will go to my room."

In a short time I returned and took a seat in the hall near the stove, as it was quite chilly. Mr. Picket and a number of other gentlemen were seated around, and we soon got to telling stories. My tooth ached so badly that I could not enjoy the stories, and was constantly complaining of the pain. A great many remedies were suggested, but they could not be had on the boat. Finally the barkeeper recommended hot salt held on the side of the face. I asked him if he had any. He said no, but I could get it in the pantry. I got up and went for the salt. I returned in a short time with a package of salt about the size of a goose egg, which was twisted up in a piece of paper. I put it on the stove, and when it got hot I held it to my face until it cooled off, then I put it back on the stove.

While the salt was getting hot a second time, I went to my room to get something. The barkeeper said to the crowd:

"Let's have some fun with Devol."

So saying, he opened the package, threw out the salt, and filled up the paper with ashes. I came back, picked up my salt, and held it to my face. Picket asked me if it was doing my tooth any good. I told him I thought it was. Then they all laughed at the idea of hot salt being good for the toothache, and Picket said:

"Devol, do you know that when salt gets hot it will turn into ashes?"

"No, I don't. What do you take me for? You must have been drinking," I replied.

They all laughed again, and Picket spoke up, saying:

"I don't believe you have any salt in that paper."

I set the package on the stove again, and replied:

"You must take me for a d——d fool, sure enough; but you don't look like you had any more sense than the law allows. I got that salt out of the salt-bag, and I tasted it before I wrapped it up, and I know it is salt, and that settles it."

"But, Devol, salt does turn to ashes when it is hot; and I will bet you the drinks for the crowd that there is no salt in that paper on the stove."

Then they had another big laugh at my expense, and I got mad. I jumped up and said:

"I will bet you $500 that there is nothing in that paper but salt."

Picket jumped up also, saying:

"I will just go you once, anyway."

I put up my $500 with the barkeeper; but Picket did not have but $350, and he wanted to bet that. I told him he could back out, but I would not bet less than what I had up. Then he put up his watch and chain for the other $150. One of the men that had been enjoying the fun, said:

"I will bet you $100 that Mr. Picket wins the money."

I replied, "I will not bet less than $500."

Then Picket said, "He wants to bluff you out; but he can't bluff me worth a cent."

So the man put up his $500, and I covered it. Everybody was excited, and some of my friends who had seen the trick that was being played on me told me not to bet; but I was mad, and would not listen to them.

When all was ready, the package was taken off the stove and handed to the barkeeper. He untwisted the paper and spread it out on the counter, and in it was as nice fine white—salt as you ever saw in your life.

The barkeeper tasted some of it, just as I did when I put up the two papers just alike, and then handed me over the money and Mr. Picket's watch and chain.

Mr. "Red River" took a large pinch of the bait, and it (or the loss of his money and watch) came near strangling him. He did not entirely recover from the effect while he remained on the boat; for every time he was well enough to come out of his room, some one would say "Salt," and that would make him sick again.

I have caught a great many suckers in my time, but Mr. Picket was the first one I ever salted down.

THE ARKANSAS KILLERS.

For many years I almost lived on board the packets. I felt more at home on any of the Mississippi steamboats than I did on land in any city or town in the United States. I had friends wherever I went, and I knew every officer and many of the crew on nearly every boat that ran the river. While on water, I did not fear any man or set of men; but there were localities on land along the Mississippi River that no man could hold his own with the rough element that lived around them. So I always gave such places a wide berth.

Helena and Napoleon, Ark., were two towns where it was not safe for any man to do the bluff act, for they would kill him just to see him kick. I won some money from one of Helena's killers at one time on board a steamer, and he set up a big kick; but as he was alone, he was like all men of his class—a coward. I well knew that if he caught me on his ground I would get the worst of it, so I resolved never to give him a chance; but one evening I was compelled to get off at Helena, as things had gotten a little too warm for me on board the boat, and I thought I would run the risk of the killers rather than give up the money I had won at that time. I went up to the hotel to get my supper and wait for another boat, and one of the first men I met was the fellow I had beaten out of his money. I knew there would be trouble, so I put Betsy Jane in a handy place, resolving to use her for what she was worth if the killers got after me. I did not leave the hotel until the boat arrived; and just about the time I was starting out, the clerk told me that some of the gamblers had beaten one of the worst men in the country on a boat, and he was down at the landing with a crowd of his roughs, waiting to do him up.

There was a lot of persons waiting for the same boat, among them some gamblers. I told the clerk to send for a carriage, and I would not go down until just as the boat was about to leave. All the others left the hotel and started for the landing before the boat came in. The killers jumped on the poor gamblers, supposing of course that I was among them. They beat them up fearfully, and came near killing one of them. During the excitement I was driven to the plank and jumped out, and was on board before any one recognized me. When the killers learned that I had given them the slip, they were determined to board the boat and get me; but the mate got his crew on the guards and would not let any of them on board. The boat backed out at once, and I was again at home among my friends; and you can bet I was glad of it, for I think that was one of my close calls.

CHEAP JEWELRY.

Before the war, there was hardly a boat of any size that plied up and down the Mississippi and its tributaries that did not count among its travelers or passengers some peddler with his pack. For the most part, his stock in trade consisted of cheap jewelry, gilded sleeve-buttons, galvanized watches, plated chains, various notions and unassortable knick-knacks. Sometimes these peddlers carried along a wheel, and had the things marked with numbers corresponding to those on the wheel. The charge was a dollar a spin, and at whatever number the wheel stopped, the article corresponding belonged to the investor in the game.

Captain Dix was then in command of the Hiawatha, a packet running from New Orleans to St. Louis. One evening Captain Dix said:

"George, I have got one of those infernal wheel peddling chaps aboard, and he has been annoying the life out of me. I've driven him out of the cabin, and he has taken refuge in the barber shop. I wish you could take him in."

Strolling down towards the barber shop, I caught a glimpse of the fellow; and being satisfied that he did not know me, I watched his game for some time, and then ran against it $5 worth.

"That's a heap fairer game than I lost $1,000 at," I said to the owner.

"What game was that?" he curiously asked.

"The fellow called it Rocky Mountain euchre. I'll go and get you some of the tickets, and show everybody how the fellow chiseled me out of my money."

"Oh, that's three-card monte," said the wheel man.

Alexander was along with me; so I began throwing the cards around awkwardly, when my partner stepped up to the table and began guessing for fun. Finally he bent one of the corners and showed it to the wheelman, whispering to him:

"Let's have a little fun out of the old fellow."

Aleck told me to mix 'em up, and offered to bet the drinks that he could turn up the old woman.

"I've got two chances to your one," I replied; "but I'll go yer."

He turned the wrong one, and I laughed, as did the wheel man. Aleck then began blackguarding me, saying that I dare not bet on it; that he did not believe I had any money; till at last I pulled out a bundle that made the wheel man look wild. Aleck kept on daring me, so at last I bet him $100 that he couldn't find it the first time after I had done mixing them. Then he made the bet, putting the money up in the wheelman's hands; and sure enough, he turned the old woman. Then I offered to bet him again for $200, and he turned it a second time. Then I pretended to drop on him, and refused to bet, saying "that his eyesight was too fine;" but he offered to bet me "that the wheel man could do it." I replied that I'd bet any amount that he couldn't, unless he told him how. This settled the wheelman, who said that he could turn the right card for $100.

"But I am already a loser for more than that, and I won't bet now for less than $500."

He began counting out his roll, but could only make out $430. He was wearing a $100 watch and chain, and Aleck whispered to him to put up that for the remaining $70. This he did, and I soon raked them in, as of course he got the wrong card. The fellow looked a little blue, but Aleck made him believe that he had in his hurry picked up the wrong card. So the fellow was bound to have revenge, and he put up his jewelry and wheel, all of which I soon won.

When Captain Dix came around, he was so overjoyed that he set up the wine and had a hearty laugh over it. I gave the fellow $50 and paid his passage back to St. Louis, while his jewelry I gave to a lame fellow that I knew in New Orleans, and it was a start in life for him.

The next morning, before the story of the jewelry man had gotten out among the passengers, we took in two or three suckers, and were intending to get off at Baton Rouge; but noticing several good men getting aboard, determined to try our hands on them. The fates were propitious, for we won $1,400 and a watch from one of them, and the other was plucked for $700 and a $200 diamond pin. I afterwards learned that they were both wealthy men who had been up to see the Governor, so the trifling loss of their pocket money did not affect them.

WON AND LOST.

We had been playing monte at one time in the bar-room of the old Prentis House at Vicksburg, Miss., and had just closed up, when in came four fellows that lived back in the country. We thought they had some money, so we opened up again to take it in. It was not long until we had all of their cash stuff. Then one of them pointed out a fine horse that was hitched with three others out at the rack, and wanted to bet me the horse against $200. The others then said they would do the same thing, so I put up $800 against their four horses, and they selected one of their party to turn the card. He turned and lost. I sent a black boy to put my horses into the stable, and he started with two of them, when two of the fellows rushed out, jumped onto the other two horses, and went up the hill as if the d—-l was after them. I sent word to them by the other two that if they ever came back to Vicksburg I would have them arrested for stealing the horses. I did not wait to see if they ever did come back, but sold the two horses I had left for $300, and took the next boat for New Orleans.

There was a poor woman with six children on board the boat, and she did not have any money to pay her passage, so we passed the hat around, and every person on the boat that was told about the poor woman chipped in something, except one stingy fellow. We took the money to Captain Leathers, as we were on his boat; but he refused to accept one cent for her passage, and told us to give the money to the woman. He gave her a state-room, and treated her as if she was paying full price for her passage. After the poor woman and her children had been taken care of, we opened up monte, and one of the first fellows we caught was the man who would not chip in to help the poor woman and her little children. We downed him for $800, and he kicked like a government mule. He went to the Captain, who had been told how mean he had been, so he got no sympathy from him or any one else. The passengers called him "Old Stingy," and asked him if he was not sorry he had not given something to the woman before he lost his money. It always did me a great deal of good to down a stingy man, for I knew he would soon have more, even if he had to starve himself to get it.

DETECTIVES AND WATCHES.

Tripp and I were playing the trains on the Missouri Pacific Railroad at one time. We had been out on the road, and were on our way back to St. Louis, and had got away with all the suckers on the train. I was enjoying a smoke in the sleeper, when a nice looking gentleman came in. I offered him a cigar, telling him I was in the tobacco business at New Orleans. We talked cigars, tobacco, etc. I learned he was a United States detective from Arkansas, on his way to Washington City. While we were talking and smoking, in came Tripp dressed up like a cow-boy. He told his story, and finally caught the fellow for $1,000. The detective did not do any kicking until we got to St. Louis, then he went to the chief of detectives, who was at that time a Mr. Horrigan. He told the chief how we had robbed him, and wanted us arrested. Mr. Horrigan was a sensible man, and knew that the sucker expected to win our money, or he would not have lost his. So he told him that his experience was worth what he had lost, and that he had no time to hunt up gamblers. The detective went on to Washington City a sadder but a wiser man. I always enjoyed taking in detectives, for they think themselves too smart to be caught. They are but human, and like other mortals can be landed for suckers if the bait is good and nicely handled.

At another time on the same road we met a new conductor, or at least we supposed he was a new one, as he did not know us, or we him. When we started to play our game he broke back to the sleeper, and I found out from the porter that he went to the superintendent and told him here was a lot of gamblers in the smoker, and asked him what he should do. The superintendent was something like Mr. Horrigan, the Chief of Detectives of St. Louis, for he told the conductor to look after his train and let the gamblers look after the suckers, as he did not care if they lost all their money, for they would not bet if they did not expect to win. I inquired the name of the superintendent, for I thought he must be a brother of Mr. Horrigan, but his name was different. We downed several fellows. The conductor looked on, but did not say a word. I learned that he was a freight conductor, and had never run a passenger train before, so I excused him for wanting to interfere; and as I had now a few good watches, I let him have one very cheap, and he appreciated my kindness. Speaking of watches, I had orders from a great many persons to win them certain kinds of watches. So when I got one to suit the order I would take it to my customer in place of the pawn shops. My old friend, Simon McCarthy, of Indianapolis, had given me an order to win him a good watch. So one day, going into the city, I downed a gentleman for some money and his watch. When I got to Indianapolis I went to see Simon, and told him I had a watch I thought would suit him. He looked at it, and when he opened the back case he threw up both hands and said:

"Why, George, this is our Mayor's watch. Where did you get it?"

I told him I won it coming in on the train, and described the man. He told me it was the Mayor, and advised me to return it to him. I learned where he lived, went to his house, rang the bell, and asked to see the Mayor. He came out to the door, and I handed him his ticker. He asked me to come in, and told me to say nothing about it, and if he could ever do me a favor he would do so. I did a good thing for myself that night, for it was but a short time after that until I was arrested and taken before his Honor. He let me off with a big fine, and after my prosecutors were gone he remitted the fine, and we then had a drink together. I wanted to return what little money I had won from him, but he would not receive it, saying it was well invested.

FIGHTS.

Before the time of railroad in the West, the steamboats on the Ohio, Mississippi, Missouri, and other rivers carried a great many passengers, as it was the most pleasant and rapid mode of travel in those early days. I was on board of some water craft nearly all the time for forty years of my life, and during that period met with a great many rough characters. I believe that I can truthfully say I have had more fights in the cabin and bar of steamboats than any other man in this country. I never tried to pick a fuss with any man; but in my business it was very hard to avoid them without showing the white feather—and in those days there was no such tint in my plumage. The officers did not like a fuss on their boats, but most of them had rather see a fellow fight than to take an insult; and I can not call to mind just now a single case, in all my many fights, where the captain of a boat blamed me for licking my man; but I do remember some good old captains who would rather see a fight than eat when they were hungry.

I always carried the very best pistol that could be bought for money, and had one that I called "Betsy Jane," for which I paid $100. I never wanted to turn her loose, for I did not want ever to kill a man. I only used her as a bluffer, and she has often responded to my wants successfully.

I was on board the steamer Kate Kinney coming down the Missouri River at one time, and had won a great deal of money. One big fellow lost $700, and I could see he was very mad about it. He would go to the bar and take a big drink, and then come back to the table. Finally he got himself nerved up pretty well, so he said to the bystanders:

"I have a d——d notion to kick that table over and break up his game."

I replied, "It will do you no good to kick the table over, as I have caught all the suckers, and am now going to quit and take a drink."

I started to the bar, and invited all hands to join me. The big fellow followed, but would not take a drink. I could see he was sizing me up, and I knew he wanted some of my mutton, so I said to him:

"We have all had a drink but you; won't you join me?"

He replied, "I can buy my own drinks, and you can go to h—l."

I did not reply to him, but walked out into the cabin. He followed me out, for he knew he had me afraid of him by my not resenting the insult. He got up pretty close and said:

"If you did get my money, I can lick you."

I told him he had better find an easier fight, when he let fly at me. I was on my guard, caught his lick on my arm, and then I lit into him, and we had it rough-and-tumble all around the hall. We came near upsetting the stove; but I had him whipped in about two minutes, and he squealed like a pig under a gate.

At another time I was coming down the Missouri River from St. Joseph to St. Louis, and had beaten a fellow out of $40. He was a rolling- mill man from St. Louis, and I found out he could hit a pretty hard lick. I was playing a game of euchre in the hall after closing up monte, when this fellow slipped up and hit me a lick on the side of the neck that came near flooring me. I rallied and was on my guard in an instant. He came at me again, and we had it up and down and around the cabin for some little time before I could get a crack at him with my head. When the old head did get a chance, it was not long until he cried quit. The Captain and every one who saw the fellow hit me from behind said they were glad to see him get licked, and so was I.

At another time I was in a game of poker on the steamer Telegraph coming up from Madison, Ind., and there was a big blacksmith in the game who was very quarrelsome. He wanted to fight every time he would lose a dollar, so I ran him up a hand and then broke him. He left the game and went into the bar. My old friend Jake Bloom had the bar at the time. The big fellow told Jake he was going to whip that fellow they called Colonel when the game was over. Jake told him he could get a much easier fight, if he wanted to lick some one. He replied:

"Why, I can lick that fellow in a minute."

I was sitting where I could hear what he said; so, as there was very little more money in the party I was playing, I left the game and went into the bar-room, and said to the blacksmith.

"Come, old top, and join me in a drink, for I beat you on that last hand."

He replied, "I don't drink with such fellows as you."

He had hardly got the words out of his mouth before he was lying on the floor, for I gave him a lick under the chin that straightened him out. As he was getting up, I let the old head go, and down he went again. He said, "That will do;" so I let up on him. He went to his room, and did not leave it until the next morning, when he had to be led off the boat, as he could not see. He swore out a warrant for my arrest; but when the policeman came to get me, the clerk told him I had left the boat. That was the last I ever heard by my big blacksmith.

THE ENGLISHMAN AND HIS GUN.

Every nationality has its suckers, and it would be pretty hard for me to decide which has the most, for I have, in my time, downed them all. I was on board the steamer Great Republic at one time when there was a number of English lads among the passengers. They had come over to this country to hunt the buffalo, and had brought their guns with them. I got acquainted with them, as they were often in the bar-room after the bloody, blarsted wine, and they liked to talk about Old h'England and their fine guns, you know. I got one of them to show me his gun, and I think it was the finest piece I ever saw. Each gun had two sets of barrels, and had the owner's name engraved on it, inlaid with gold, and not one of them cost less than $500. I tried to buy one, but it could not be done. One night after my partner had gone to bed I was in the bar-room, when one of the English lads came in. He had been in bed, but got up to get a blarsted drink, and he invited me to join him, which I did, and then I insisted on him joining me in a small bottle. We drank three bottles, then I excused myself, and sent for my partner to get up and come to the bar-room. I then began telling the English lad about a new game, and finally I got out the tickets and was showing them, when my partner came in about half asleep. He, like the English lad, had been in bed and had got up to get a drink. He invited us to join him, as he did not like to drink alone. We accepted, and as the lad was feeling pretty good by this time, he could not let a gentleman treat without returning the compliment, you know. My partner and the lad got to guessing for fun, and then proposed to wager the wine. I lost a bottle, and so did my partner. While we were drinking my partner put a crimp in the baby ticket, but took good care that the English lad saw him do it. Then he wanted me to bet money on the game, and I said:

"I have two chances to your one, and could win all your money if we would bet."

The Englishman laughed, and said:

"Why, lad, you 'avent a bloody bit of a chance; you would lose every blarsted cent you 'ave if you bet."

My partner kept bantering me, when I pulled out a roll of greenbacks that made them open their eyes, saying:

"I would not be one bit afraid to wager all that."

The Englishman gave me a nudge and said:

"Lad, don't you do it."

My partner then said:

"I haven't got one-half so much money, but I will bet you $500 I can pick up the baby ticket."

We put our money in the Englishman's hand, and I turned to him and offered to bet him a bottle of wine that I would win the money. He took me up. My partner turned the card, and I lost the money and the wine.

He wanted to bet me $1,000, but I told him he was a little too lucky for me. I saw Johnnie Bull was crazy to bet, so I said to him:

"Do you think you could guess the baby ticket?"

"Indeed I do," he replied.

"I will wager you that you can't."

He got out his leather bag and counted out twenty sovereigns. I saw he had plenty more, so I would not bet him less than one hundred sovereigns. He put them up, and I put up $500 in greenbacks. He turned the card and lost. My partner made him believe that he had made a mistake, by showing him that the corner of the baby ticket was still turned up.

He wanted to bet with me, so I took him for $500, and he won. That made Johnnie Bull hot, as he did not have any more ready money except maybe $50. I saw he was ready for anything, so I told him I would bet him $1,000 against his gun if it was on the table. He jumped up, went to his room, and soon returned with his case. He unlocked it and showed me his gun. I put $1,000 in the barkeeper's hands, as I wanted to get the gun where he could not snatch it and run, as I expected he would do, if I gave him a chance. I mixed the cards, and he went for the baby, but he must have been excited, for he missed it. It was fun to see him. He looked at the cards, at me and my partner, then at his gun case, but it was behind the bar, and he could not get it. As soon as he could speak he said:

"Oh! my gun; I've lost my gun."

He walked up and down the guards, coming in every moment to look at his gun. I finally told him if he would raise the money I would let him have his gun for $500. Then he was happy, but he would not go to bed or leave the bar for fear I would get off with his fine English gun. The next morning he told his companions, and they raised the $500 in less than no time. I heard them talking. One would say to another:

"The lad has lost his gun, lads, and we must get the bloody thing for 'im."

I could have got $1,000 for it just as quick as the $500. I tried to show the other Johnnie Bulls how the lad lost his gun, but they would not come within a mile of the table. I bid them all good- bye and left the boat at Vicksburg, but I was always sorry I did not keep that gun.

TRAVELING KENO.

Away back in the fifties, when there was but few railroads in the Northwest, I went by stage from LaCrosse to Portage City, Wis. It was during the winter season, and a bitter cold day. I came very near to freezing on the road, but I expected to make money, and I guess that was what saved me. I had a keno outfit with me, and it was my intention to play the surrounding towns after the manner of a traveling show. The first thing to be done after my arrival was to get thawed out, then to see the Mayor and get his permission (or license) to advertise and run my game. I called upon his Honor and stated my business. He did not know much about keno, so I explained the little innocent game to him. The result was, I got authority to open my game. I secured a room that had been used as a school-room, and advertised that I would open the next night, and in a short time after the door was opened the room was full of pupils. Some of them had never been to such a school, so I had to teach them the first principles; but it did not take me very long, as all those that had taken lessons rendered me all the assistance in their power, and I was very thankful for it, as I was anxious to get to work. After distributing the books, I began to call the numbers, and I must say I never saw a more quiet and attentive set of pupils in a school-room. We were getting along so nicely that I began to think it a pleasure to teach such nice boys, when a great big, rough-looking fellow came in, stalked all around the school-room, and made so much noise that I had to call some of the numbers over again. Some of the boys told him to sit down, take a book and study his lesson, but he would not do it. I saw he was a bad boy, and would not let the other boys alone; so I spoke to him very kindly, telling him to sit down, and see if he could not learn something; but he was one of the worst boys I ever saw, for he told me to go to h—l, and he would do just as he pleased. I remembered when I went to school how my teacher used to serve me when I was a bad boy and would annoy the other boys. So I told the scholars we would take a recess for about twenty minutes. They all threw down their books, and most of them went out to play. During recess I walked up to the bad boy and said:

"You are a very bad boy to come in here and annoy my pupils, and you deserve a whipping."

He replied: "You are not man enough to whip me."

That was all I wanted him to say; so I let fly and gave him a good one on the jaw, and then I kept it up, until he cried worse than I ever did when I went to school. He got out of that school room faster than he came in, and then I called order and went on with my duties just as if nothing had happened out of the regular order.

I remained in Portage City for some time. My pupils liked me and paid their tuition promptly. Some of them paid much more than they could well afford, but they did it voluntarily. I went from Portage to Madison, where I had a good game, but I had to whip a fellow the second day, and in fact I had one or more fights in every town I went to; for there is nearly always some big bully in a town or city that has whipped some one, and he thinks that every one is afraid of him, and he can do just as he pleases; but they found out that they could not run me on my keno business.

A BULL FIGHT.

The steamer John Walsh was on an upward trip, two days out from New Orleans. A crowd of gentlemen were gathered about the bar, punishing wine at $5 a bottle. With flushed faces, jocund laughter, and the incessant pop of the champagne corks, the time flew unheeded past. The barkeeper smiled when at the little window of the bar the ebony head of a stalwart negro appeared.

"Say, boss, gimme some whisky."

Everybody turned, and laughter that was about to burst forth, or the jest that was ready, was hushed; for the negro's head was split open and the blood pouring down his cheeks in rivulets, crimsoning his swarthy, shiny skin and clothing.

"Been fighting?" said the barkeeper.

"Yes; de fireman he butted me."

Up came the mate, who observed:

"We've got a fireman down below who has killed two or three niggers by butting them to death with his head."

"Send him up," I said, "and I'll butt him till he is sick of butting."

We had all been drinking wine, and everybody laughed, supposing that it was the liquor talking, and not me.

"Why, Devol, I wouldn't give five cents for your head if that nigger gets a lick at it," spoke up a young planter who was in the party.

Then I got mad, and exclaimed:

"I'll bet $500 I can make the nigger squeal."

The mate roared out with laughter; but I put up my money, and so did the young planter, thinking that I would back out. He only had $175 in his roll, and he offered to bet that.

"All right; I don't back out. I'll butt the nigger for $175."

The money was soon up in the barkeeper's hands; and then the mate knew that I meant business, and he put up $25 to make bet the even $200.

At this juncture the mate called a halt. "Wait till I see if the nigger will butt with a white man;" and rushing down stairs, the "image of God cut in ebony" was interviewed.

"I doant like for to butt a white man," he said, "for I'm afraid I'll kill him, and den dey hang de ole nigger."

But the mate said, "I've just put up $25 on you, and I want to win it."

"All right; if yer means it, boss, I'll go yer."

At the bar I procured a long string and a ribbon from a cigar bunch, and started down stairs. Instantly the wildest excitement reigned on the boat. Two of the deck-hands stood guard at the foot of the stairs to keep the crowd back, and the hurricane roof and boiler deck were thronged with an eager and excited crowd. Fastening one end of the string to the jack-staff and the other to the steps at about the proper height, the ribbon was tied in the centre of the string, and the black man and myself stood back five feet on either side, and at a given signal were to come forward and strike at the ribbon. Then the passengers said it was a shame to let that nasty nigger butt that nice white man to death; but as there were no S. P. C. A. officers aboard, the game went on.

The deck-hands all rolled up their eyes and looked at me as they would at a corpse. Just before the word ready was given, I asked the nigger if he had any money to put up on the result, and running his hand down in his watch-pocket he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. I covered it, and the planter told the nigger he would give him $10 more if he downed me. I cocked my eye on the nigger's head, and saw that it was one of those wedge-shaped cocoanuts so peculiar to people of African descent; so I inwardly resolved to hit him on one side of his wedge-shaped cranium. The nigger had his face to the sun, so that I felt confident that I could hit him pretty near where I wanted to.

The word was given, and at the ribbon we both rushed like a couple of frenzied bulls. I gave him a glancing blow that skinned his head for about three inches. The next time there was a crash, a jar that shook the boat and drew a shriek of terror from the passengers, for the nigger fell with a dull thud on the deck. He lay as stiff and cold as a dead man.

"Dat nigger is done gone dead! Dat nigger is no good any more!" shouted the alarmed roustabouts.

The mate lifted him up, and he began bleeding from the nose, eyes, and ears. The mate kindly asked him if he wanted to butt any more. He did not reply, only shook his head sadly and murmured inaudibly, "No." They applied whisky and water to his head, and at last removed him into the deck to cool off.

Many years have rolled by, and I have never heard the last of that butting adventure. The papers wrote it up, and in less than ten days every planter on the coast had heard of it. The planter who lost the $175 tells the story to this day; and Bill Patterson, the mate (he is dead now), used to tell it to every new crew that he shipped.

Towards night the old nigger came crawling up stairs and said:

"Massa, you have done for this poor nigger, for I must go to the hospital and get cured up."

I returned him his $10, and for the rest of the trip the passengers paid for everything I wanted to drink.

IT SHOOK THE CHECKS.

It never pays a man to be too officious and volunteer information or advice when it is not asked, for he very often makes enemies and courts a disturbance that he could easily have avoided if he had simply minded his own business.

Some seven years ago I attended a fair at Cynthiana, Ky., and opened out a gentleman's game in the Smith Hotel bar-room. There were a number of sports from Louisville and Cincinnati present, and everything was moving along lively, and as decorous as a funeral, when some of the Paris and Louisville boys indulged in a scrimmage and were arrested. Everybody left the hotel and went to see the result of the trial. I sat near the judge, and when the evidence was all in I whispered to him to fine them $10 each. This he did, and as we were leaving the court-room, I noticed that a big fellow from Paris, Ky., regarded me with very sour looks.

After supper I opened up my game, and in he came, and going to the bar-keeper, whispered in a tone of voice loud enough for me to hear: "I am going to whip that dealer."

Pretty soon I closed up the game, and then Sam Aliways and myself took a turn around the town, and running into a saloon, met the big bully. He had his coat off and a six-shooter a foot long hanging to his side; so, edging up to where he stood, I tapped him on the shoulder, observing:

"You are the gentleman that is looking for a fight."

As soon as he saw who it was, he grabbed for his shooting-iron; but just as he got hold of the handle, I dealt him a blow in the neck and he fell over against the counter, but I soon grabbed him and hit him a butt with my head. That ended the fight. He had sense enough to say, "That will do;" and seeing a policeman coming in one door, I went out another, hastened to the hotel and paid my bill, and caught the train for Covington. I was none too quick, however; for the next day when Aliways came along with my tools, he said that the fellow had a host of friends in the town, and that at least fifty fellows came around armed with case-knives, axes, double-barreled shotguns, revolvers, and rocks; and that if they had caught me, I would have met a fate worse than the martyr Stephen or the Chicago anarchists.

The fellow went by the name of Bill Legrets. When he was asked why he didn't shoot me, he said:

"Shoot h—l. The first lick he hit me, I thought my neck was disjointed; and when he ran that head into me, I though it was a cannon-ball."

Bob Linn was dealing up stairs at the time, and he afterwards said that when the bloody duffer fell to the floor, that all the checks on the table trembled like aspen leaves. Poor fellow! He is dead now, having been shot in Paris a few years since.

WITH A POKER.

Once when traveling in the West, and winning some money from a man from Kansas City, some smart Aleck told him that I had cheated him, so he made up his mind to kill me on sight. I made some inquiries, and ascertained that he was a desperate man and had already killed his two men. Accordingly I put my gun in my pocket and staid about the town, just keeping my eyes on the lookout, and at last went up to Omaha.

I was sitting one evening playing the bank, having forgotten all about the Kansas City man, when a friend of mine came to me and said that the man was in the adjoining room, and would soon be in to play faro. I lost no time in making my preparations to meet the gentleman. My friend had no pistol, nor had I; but seeing a poker lying on the floor near the stove, I rushed for it; and as I knew I could not go out without going through the room where he was, I simply put the poker under my coat and got up close to the door that led into the faro room and awaited his arrival. It was not long; and as soon as I saw him and was sure, I let drive and caught him square in the mouth, knocking him stiff. Then I rushed forward, and, grabbing him, secured his pistol, as I thought he would in all probability turn it loose on me. Then I attended to his head for a few minutes, endeavoring to kick the fight out of him.

I learned afterwards that he had a very bad reputation, having killed three men and been warned off the plains by a vigilant committee. He was confined to his bed for a couple of weeks, and I was congratulated on all sides for having walloped the fellow.

LEFT IN TIME.

Thirty-five or forty years ago the Cincinnati boats used to carry a great many passengers, and the New Orleans boats were always well filled. I once got aboard the Yorktown at Vicksburg. There was a full passenger list, and when I opened up there was at once a crowd around my frugal board. They seemed to enjoy the fair, and I won a good pile of money. At last we reached Bayou Plaquemine, at which point there was a strong current sweeping down the bayou, so that flat-boats were frequently driven in there and stranded. The Yorktown undertook to land at the mouth of the bayou, but the current which flowed like a mill-dam was too strong, and she started down the bayou. They headed her at once for the bank, and her stern swung around, and, lodging against the opposite bank, formed a perfect bridge across the mouth of the bayou. The boat was loaded to the guards, and the water ran through her deck rooms so rapidly that I thought every minute she would sink or fill with water, but they put weight on the hatches, then dug around the stern, so as to let her swing around. Just then two boats came along, one upward bound and the other down. One of them pushed and the other pulled the boat off, and then I began to look around, only to see that all the passengers had gone ashore. After wandering about the town the suckers decided it was time to kick and have me arrested, but I divined what was in the wind, and, like Lord Byron's Arab, silently folded my tent and crept away. I reached New Orleans first.

ON THE CIRCUIT.

During the summer of the Centennial year I followed the races; gambling on horses, running faro bank, red and black, old monte, and anything else that came up. I had a partner at the beginning by the name of John Bull, of Chicago, and he was a good, clever boy. He dealt faro, and I the red and black. We separated at Jackson, Mich., he going to Chicago and I to Cleveland, where I witnessed the great race between "Goldsmith Maid" and the horse "Smuggler," on which I lost some money; but I had a good game of red and black, so I was about even. I then concluded I would follow the trotters through the circuit. While sitting at the hotel one day in Cleveland I saw on the opposite side of the street a face and form that I thought I recognized. I ran over, and sure enough it was my old partner, Canada Bill, and with him another great capper by the name of Dutch Charlie. I was more than glad to see Bill, and he was very glad to see me. He wanted me to tell him where I had been, what I had been doing, and where I was going, and would up by saying:

"George, let's go and get something."

We soon found a bar-room, and began telling each other all that had happened since we were last together. I told Bill I had about made up my mind to follow the horses through the circuit. He told me that he and Charlie were going to do the same thing, and insisted that I should join, allowing as "how we three would make a good, strong team." I agreed. So it was settled we would all work together. While we were talking a slick-looking fellow, who I took to be a store clerk, walked in, and Bill invited him to take a drink, which he did, and I was introduced to Mason Long, who now styles himself "the converted gambler." Bill, Charlie, and I left Cleveland and went to Buffalo, but the night we left we had downed a sucker for $1,300, and thought best not to wait for morning.

We caught some good ones on the trip over, and they set up a great big kick. They telegraphed a description of Bill to Buffalo, so we got him to get off before we reached the city, telling him where to meet Charlie and myself the next day. We went on to the city and waited for Bill to show up, which he did the next night. He was too smart to come in by rail, so he got a man to drive him in.

We kept him in his hotel for a few days, until we thought the kickers that we had beat out of $2,100 had left the city. Then we made him dress up in store clothes, which he did not like a bit, saying:

"I don't feel good in the tarnal stuff things, nohow."

We thought best not to try our old games in Buffalo for fear the police would be looking for Bill, so we played the faro banks, bet on horses, and quit big losers at the end of the week. Dutch Charlie saved his money. He did not play the bank or horses, and it was well for us that he did not, for we always had a roll to use in making a bluff, which sometimes we would not have had if it had not been for him. We went from Buffalo to Rochester, and as we did not catch any kicking sucker on the way down, we had clear sailing during the week. We won a pile of money at monte, but Bill and I lost heavily at the races and faro banks. From Rochester we went to Utica, where I remained but a day or two, then concluded to run down to Philadelphia and see the Exposition. I bid the boys good-bye, promising to return before they left Utica. I did not take but little money with me, as I did not expect to do any bluffing while I was away. I took in the faro banks the first night, and the next day did not have a dollar. I started out on the street and soon met a man that I knew by the name of John Wilson. I saw by his actions he was like myself, "running light," for he did not ask me to take something, which I knew was his custom, for he was a clever fellow. We understood each other very soon, and parted. I had not gone very far until I heard some one call my name. I looked up, and saw two old friends of mine from New Orleans in a carriage that had just passed me. Then I knew I had struck oil. I lost no time in getting alongside of that rig and shaking hands with Samuel DeBow and Wm. Graham from my adopted home. They invited me to accompany them to the Exposition grounds, which I was very glad to do. They soon saw by my actions that something was out of tune, so they pressed me to know what it was. I told them, and I soon had all the money I wanted. After taking in the Exposition and a very large quantity of wine, I bid my friends good-bye, promising to meet them in Saratoga within a week. I went back to Utica and found that the boys, Bill and Charlie, had won $3,800, and they insisted that I was in with it. From Utica we went to Poughkeepsie, and in a few days I again left the boys to meet my New Orleans friends at Saratoga. I put up at the same hotel where they were stopping. The next day we took in the races, where I met another friend by the name of Rufus Hunt. He was well posted and gave us some good pointers. We bought pools and won $900. Then we all tried to see how much wine we could take in, and I do believe we got in $900 worth.

Canada Bill came over, and we spent a week with my friends. Then we promised to meet them in New York City, and left for Poughkeepsie, where we found Dutch Charlie, and we all took a Hudson river boat, called the Mary Powell, for New York. On our way down we got into a friendly game of euchre with an old gent, and we relieved him of $700. After dinner I went up on the roof and saw my old friend Captain Leathers, of the steamer Natchez, in the pilot- house. He was insisting that his boat could beat the Mary Powell, and when he saw me he said:

"I can prove it by that man coming up here now."

I was glad to see the old fellow so far from home, so I told the pilot that the Natchez was the fastest boat on the Mississippi; and Captain Leathers went down to see the boys and the barkeeper.

Bill, Charlie, and I remained in New York for some time, and we proved what old Bill said in Cleveland: "We three would make a good, strong team."

The time came when I was compelled to leave the boys and go to Chicago, and that was the last I saw of old Canada Bill and Dutch Charlie until the following winter, when they both came down to New Orleans, and them we again made the suckers think we three were a good team.

STRATEGEM.

We went on board of Captain William Eads' boat at St. Charles, Mo., late one night, and found that all the state-rooms were taken and we could get no bed. There was no one up about the cabin except the officers of the boat, and as we never tried to win their money, things looked a little blue for any business before morning, unless some of the passengers could be got up. Young Bill Eads, a son of the Captain, was one of the pilots on the boat. He was off watch and at the bar drunk when we got on board. His father had married a young wife that day, and was taking his wedding trip on that boat. Young Bill was mad because his father had secured a young step-mother for him, and was just raising "Ned" about it.

A short time after going on board, the boat made a landing, and while we were tied up, the other pilot came down to the bar to see Bill and also to get something. His name was John Consall—an old friend of mine. I invited him and Bill to join me, and while we were drinking I said:

"I wish we could get up a little excitement, so some of the suckers would come out of their holes."

Young Bill replied: "I'll get them out for you, and that d——d quick."

John Consall went back to the pilot-house, and soon had the boat on her way. Bill went out, and in about twenty minutes there was the darndest racket on that boat you ever heard. Everybody was sneezing at one and the same time, and you would have thought they were trying to blow the roof off, from the amount of noise they made. Bill came up to us out on the guards, and said:

"Didn't I tell you I would drive them out of their holes?"

I looked into the cabin, and, sure enough, everybody was out of their rooms, rushing up and down the cabin and finally out on the guards. Old Captain Bill and young Bill's new step-mother were among the crowd, and it was fun the see the young bride rushing around after her old hubby, trying to keep him from blowing up the boat with his sneezing and cursing. He would pull away from her every time he would make a big sneeze, and then he would curse until another one would overtake him. He and young Bill knew what was the cause of all the racket, and the old one soon learned who had put the red pepper on the hot stove. He tried to find his bad boy, but he was up on the roof, so his step-mother did not get to see her hubby throw him overboard, as he swore he would do if he caught him.