VII GALLAGHER STRIPPED

“Sure I do be thinkin’ it’s like playin’ lotthery,” said Stumpy, as he sat one day in meditative mood near the steamboat-landing with Deaf Dan. It was a hot afternoon and there had been a long, sociable silence between them when Stumpy yawned and shot off his comparison. It was uttered in stentorian tones, for none could converse otherwise with Deaf Dan.

“As bein’ how?” inquired Deaf Dan. “Who’s a lotthery?”

“All of us,” said Stumpy. “Iv’ry marnin’ we do put in, loike the suckers that buys thim little printed bits o’ paper wid a big number on ’em, an’ lies. An’ thin we set around, like bumps on a log, waitin’ for to see what the drawin’ ’ll be, the same as thim same suckers does. Mostly it’s blanks. Sildom it is that anythin’ happens in Brownsville. But now an’ again, some wan’ll dhraw a proize. Maybe it’s a chanst at th’ red liquor, an’ maybe it’s a shindy, an’ sometimes it’s a game of dhraw-poker, but annyhow it’s a proize, such as it may be.”

“It’s right y’ are,” said Deaf Dan. “An’ lately it’s all blanks. Sure, there’s nothin’ do be doin’ in th’ place since the night that Gallagher got back.”

“Sure, that was a fine foight,” said Stumpy.

“They tell me that same,” responded Deaf Dan, “but Gallagher an’—Howly mother o’ Moses, phwat’s that?”

“That” appeared at first to be a procession of two, emerging with great suddenness from the door of the barroom, but, as Deaf Dan and Stumpy rose to get a better view of the proceedings, the two who first appeared were followed by a straggling crowd of others, all eagerly intent on observation, so that presently the entire male population of Brownsville was assembled on the levee, looking with interest to see the outcome of what seemed to be a personal difficulty between two prominent citizens. Last of all to appear was Sam, the bartender, whose appearance on his doorstep was indisputable evidence that there was no one remaining inside.

The leading figure in the procession was Gallagher, and judging from the earnestness with which he was moving, it was easily to be understood that he was desirous of putting as much vacant space as possible between himself and the second advancing figure. He might almost be said to be flying, rather than fleeing. And every ounce of force at his command was devoted to the effort to keep in the lead, so that, although his mouth was open, he emitted no sound.

His pursuer, on the other hand, though he was no less resolute in his endeavour to cover the ground quickly, was devoting a part of his strength to the loud utterance of many words. For the most part, these words savoured of profanity, too enthusiastic to be well chosen, but sufficiently impassioned to be exceedingly impressive. There was no questioning the fact that Long Mike had lost his temper again, and small doubt that he would do bodily harm to his foreman if he should succeed in getting near enough to lay hands upon him.

But Gallagher succeeded, though with great difficulty, in maintaining his position in the van of the advance until he reached the brink of the river. Then, instead of turning, or possibly making a stand, he surprised the onlookers beyond measure by making a flying leap, and disappearing in the muddy flood.

Right here it may be said that no man, with the possible exception of Gallagher or Long Mike himself, was ever able to tell just how it happened that the long-standing difficulty between the two had blazed up in such sudden fury. Opinions differed as to whether Gallagher’s intemperate habits of speech had provoked the outburst or whether Long Mike’s apprehension had been warped by his indulgence in superfluous stimulant. All that was known was that Long Mike had aimed a sudden blow, which the other had dodged, and that the foot-race began forthwith.

When the pursued plunged into the river, the pursuer paused on the brink. For a moment it seemed as if he were only waiting for his victim to appear at the surface before leaping in after him, and Stumpy and two or three others laid detaining hands on him. Almost immediately, however, it appeared that he was not minded to risk himself in the water, although his wrath was by no means assuaged, for, after a few moments, Gallagher, who could swim like a fish, reappeared some twenty yards from shore, and, keeping himself easily afloat, turned to his foe. Thereupon, Long Mike, making no effort to break away from the men who held him, opened his mouth and spoke.

“—— —— —— —— —— ——,” he said. “—— —— —— ——.”

“Is that so?” responded Gallagher, mockingly. He was not devoid of courage, though neither he nor any three men up and down the river cared to face Long Mike in a rough-and-tumble fight.

“It is,” said Long Mike, “an’ if ye’ll come ashore, I’ll break ivery bone in yer body.”

“Ye’ll not,” said Gallagher.

“An’ why?” demanded Long Mike.

“Because I’ll not come ashore.”

Preposterous as this proposition was, Long Mike did not appear to recognize the fact that the other could hardly remain in the water indefinitely, and that all he had to do was to wait. He broke out again in language to which no polite person would willingly listen, and concluded by saying: “I can lick the life out o’ yez.”

“Ye can,” said Gallagher, unhesitatingly. “An’ I can outdhrink yez.”

“Ye can that,” said Gallagher again.

“An’ I can outrun yez.”

“Yis.”

“An’ I can outswear yez, an’—an’—an—an’ I’m a betther man than yez in ivery way,” sputtered Long Mike, not seeming to be able to call to mind any more specific accomplishments.

“Y’ are not,” said Gallagher. “Whin it comes to dhraw-poker, I’ll play ye fer years ag’in minutes, an’ bate ye the two-thirds of all eternity.”

“Draw-poker, is it?” exclaimed Long Mike. “Av ye’ll coom in out o’ the wet an’ play a freeze-out, I’ll win yer money an’ yer house an’ lot, an’ the clo’es off yer back, till yer naked as a bald head, an’ worn out as a burnt match.”

“I’ll go ye,” said Gallagher, “f’r all I have, ag’in everything ye have yoursilf.”

There was a murmur of dissent and some derisive laughter from the crowd, for Gallagher, though fairly well-to-do according to the Brownsville standard, was the other’s employee and by no means a peer of the principal capitalist of the town, who, in addition to his visible resources, had money secreted in his house. But Long Mike raised his hand.

“Let be,” he said, sternly. “I have a lesson to tache this omadhaun. Faith, he’s growin’ too large to live in the same town wid the likes o’ me.”

And the unequal match was arranged. In half an hour’s time the two were seated in Sam’s back room, with all the chips in the house divided in two equal parts, and the game was begun with the clear understanding that the winner of all the chips could claim from the other all that he owned on earth down to his undershirt.

As there was nothing whatever to attract the attention of anybody in Brownsville to any other point, the room was crowded with lookers-on, and all those who could not gain entrance stood outside and discussed the probabilities.

“If Gallagher do play close,” said Stumpy, “I’m thinkin’ he’ll win out, for Long Mike’s the divil for bluffin’ an’ Gallagher knows it, worse luck!” And this was the general sentiment.

In the first half-hour—for the game was a long one—Long Mike’s luck was by no means good, and though the big man made no violent plunges, his pile of chips dwindled until Gallagher had all but a single stack of blues. Of course, there was no arbitrary money value to a chip, but they called them dollars for convenience, the reds being a quarter and the whites a nickel.

It was Long Mike’s deal and Gallagher anted the usual nickel, but the dealer, finding nothing, threw in a blue and took his change from the other, making a ten-cent jack. This was sweetened, a nickel at a time, till there was a dollar in the pot. Then, Gallagher dealing, Long Mike opened it for a dollar.

“I’ll raise you two,” said Gallagher.

“Five better,” said Long Mike, pushing in the chips.

“All you’ve got,” said Gallagher.

“Go you,” said Long Mike, and they both stood pat. Each had a flush, but Long Mike’s was ace high and Gallagher’s best card was a jack.

The next hand was passed and another jack-pot made. Gallagher opened it, was raised, raised back, and was raised again till once more Long Mike’s pile was in the centre and Gallagher stood to win it all. Again they both stood pat and showed two straights, but Long Mike’s was the better. This gave him eighty dollars to play with, but Gallagher still had nearly three hundred, so it took another hand like the last to put the two on anything like even ground.

“If Long Mike wins again,” whispered Stumpy to his next neighbour in great excitement, “he’s got his luck wid him, an’ it’s good-bye, Gallagher.” His neighbour nodded, and their hopeful faces showed that they shared fully in the general wish that Long Mike would win.

It was with strained attention that the crowd watched the next deal, and a sigh of satisfaction followed the making of another jack-pot. This was sweetened again and again till the spectators lost patience, and Long Mike expressed his poor opinion of the cards violently and called for a new deck.

It was brought and shuffled, and on the first deal both caught openers. Long Mike opened and Gallagher raised, but instead of raising again, Long Mike simply made good and called for one card. Then he chipped without looking at his draw.

“Yer name is Mud this time,” said Gallagher. “I don’t want any cards an’ I’ll raise you the size o’ the pot.”

“Is that so?” asked Long Mike. “Well, maybe I’ve drawed an ace, I don’t know. If I have. I’ll raise you my pile.” And he turned over the card he had drawn, exposing it to view. It was an ace, and without a word he shoved his chips all into the pot.

It looked like a winning, and Gallagher studied some time before playing. But, though it looked like a winning, it also looked like one of Long Mike’s characteristic bluffs on finding himself confronted by a pat hand, and finally Gallagher said: “I’ve got to call you. Mine’s a flush.”

“An’ mine’s a trey full on aces,” said Long Mike. “Faith if I’d known you was goin’ to stand pat, I’d have taken two an’ been beat.” And a mighty cheer went up from the crowd, for the two players were nearly even again.

Gallagher scowled, but said nothing and played close. Winning and losing in turn for half an hour more, he fell slightly behind, so that he had less, instead of more, than half the chips when he caught four fours pat in a jack-pot that Long Mike opened. He raised, of course, and was raised in turn, till Long Mike called, and made ready to serve the draw.

“Gimme one,” said Gallagher, carelessly, and was delighted when the other drew two. It looked like the chance of his life, and when Long Mike bet, he raised it his pile.

But Long Mike called him again and showed down four eights.

“Now,” he said, “all ye have is mine, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said Gallagher, pluckily enough.

“Shtrip, then,” said Long Mike, sternly, and the other without a word threw off his clothes till he had on nothing but a fine Irish blush. But he uttered no complaint, and the crowd that had jeered him unmercifully fell into silence and turned away its eyes as he walked toward the door.

Just as he reached it, however, Long Mike stopped him.

“Come back an’ put on yer clothes,” he said. “They do be fittin’ yez betther nor they would me. Yer money I’ll take, for ye’ll worrk the harder for bein’ broke, but yer house I don’t want. Yer a man, afther all, Gallagher, an’ I’ll hire you over again. There’s a boat whistlin’ on the river now, an’ ye’ll hustle th’ men down the levee right speedy.”