X STUMPY VIOLATES ETIQUETTE

The fate of the one-eyed man had not been forgotten in Brownsville, but the lapse of time since his taking off had been sufficient to allay the excitement which it had occasioned.

This excitement, it may be said, was not the result of any fervent esteem which the one-eyed man might have enjoyed among his fellow citizens if he had been a person of more congenial temperament than he was. As a matter of fact, he had various traits of character which had distinctly failed to commend him to the hearty liking of the community, and while he lived there were not a few citizens who counted him among the least desirable of their number.

Brownsville, however, was not habituated to homicide. Fights there were in Brownsville not infrequently, and a good shindy was commonly reckoned among the pleasurable variations to the monotony that characterized life in the little river town for something like three hundred and sixty days in the year.

Such fights, however, were usually carried to a more or less satisfactory conclusion without loss of life, and the sudden demise of the one-eyed man had aroused some horror, as well as a strong feeling of antipathy for the man who shot him. This feeling was also tempered by the lukewarmness of the sentiment of the community toward the one-eyed man, but the prevailing opinion was that Wharton had gone a little too far in shooting.

There was no disputing the fact, however, that it was a fair fight, and that the one-eyed man had brought it on himself, so there had been no attempt made to put Wharton on trial for the killing. He had gone away from Brownsville, and the general satisfaction at that had, of itself, tempered the hostility he had provoked, which hostility was indeed no very powerful sentiment.

When the Creole Belle, however, tied up at the Brownsville landing, just at the edge of a summer evening, some months after the shooting, and Mr. Wharton stepped ashore, he failed to receive any enthusiastic welcome. Strangers who came ashore at Brownsville were not so numerous as to allow of his escaping recognition, and most of those whom he greeted on his way from the landing to the barroom responded with a cool “Howdy,” but no one proffered a handshake, and none gave him spontaneous greeting.

It was not observed, however, that any of those in the barroom made any strenuous effort to avoid his invitation to partake of such refreshment as Sam had in readiness. It was therefore to be fairly inferred that time had mellowed the resentment which Mr. Wharton’s violent action had originally provoked.

Perhaps no clearer statement of the actual condition of public sentiment could be made than that which Stumpy put in words, speaking to Gallagher, as they returned to their work on the landing after they had followed the crowd into the barroom.

“I do be thinkin’ this here Wharton ’ud be betther loiked,” he said, “av he’d shtop some place where they knowed less about him. Av he shtays here, belike there’ll be doin’s.”

“Maybe,” said Gallagher, “but I reckon there’s them here that’ll kape him from too much killin’, an’ the most o’ the houses is nailed down.”

“Shure, it’s not the likes o’ that I’m thinkin’. ’Tain’t likely he’ll steal the town, nor yet the river,” returned Stumpy, somewhat nettled at the other’s indifference, “but he’s not the koind o’ man I loike to see.

“Shure, he’s a gambler, an’ he’s too almighty free with his gun, I’m thinkin’. He’ll carry away the money that belongs in the town, an’ av there’s anny row—an’ belike there will be if Long Mike sits in wid him, it’s not fightin’ wid fists we’ll see, but a shootin’ scrape.

“Shure, I don’t mind a bit o’ a shindy, or a sociable game o’ dhraw-poker, but thim kind is the wrong cattle to play wid.”

“We’ll see,” said Gallagher, shortly, as he turned to his work.

He was an enthusiastic gambler himself, though a most unlucky one, and the notion of playing with a professional had no terrors for him. Moreover, the scent of a battle, even afar, was sweeter to him than newmown hay. Stumpy, however, though by no means averse to excitement of any kind, was more conservative and had his forebodings.

Later in the evening, after the Creole Belle had discharged her freight and taken on that which was waiting for her, and had gone on down the Mississippi, leaving Mr. Wharton still in the barroom, it appeared altogether probable that some, at least, of these forebodings would be justified.

Sam had been kept tolerably busy in the meantime, Mr. Wharton having realized what was expected of him as a stranger, and being evidently disposed to fulfil his obligations. Possibly in consequence of this the crowd around him, when Brownsville resumed its normal inactivity after the departure of the boat, was conversationally disposed.

Not less than four persons were talking at once, most of the time, and though Mr. Wharton did comparatively little talking and did not appear to have taken enough red liquor to affect his nerves in the least, it was noticeable that he was doing all he could to promote the general hilarity.

There could hardly be a doubt of his object. At all events, Stumpy entertained none, and though he did his duty conscientiously in seeing that none of Sam’s liquor should go begging, as became one who was conversant with Brownsville’s customs, he yet maintained a constant watchfulness, as one who feared the worst. When, presently, he heard Wharton propose a game of cards, he muttered:

“I knew it. Now for a battle, murder an’ sudden death, I don’t know. Av Long Mike sits in, an’ the saints above cudn’t kape him out, there’ll be doin’s. Sure it’s me for to shtand by.”

Stand by, accordingly, he did. Wharton’s proposal was seconded and adopted with alacrity, and Long Mike and Gallagher took their seats at the table eagerly. Hennessy also declared his willingness to buy chips, and the fifth hand was taken by a man named Cutler, who had been in town for some weeks, and was, therefore, known to them all excepting Wharton, but who had failed to arouse any feeling of liking or respect among the citizens.

Just why he was there he did not explain, nor did any demand an explanation; but it seemed so utterly unreasonable for a stranger to remain in Brownsville indefinitely that he was already an object of suspicion. He flashed his money with the others, however, and no one made objection to his playing.

The game was for table stakes, and, as each player bought a hundred to start, no one else in the room felt rich enough to take a hand. They all stood around looking on, however, so Stumpy attracted no attention when he took his stand directly behind Wharton’s chair, getting as close to it as he conveniently could without touching it. It so happened, moreover, that Cutler sat nearly opposite to him, being the third man to Wharton’s left.

For a considerable time the play was uneventful, and the luck appeared to run more evenly than was to be expected. Even Gallagher did not lose as rapidly as usual, and Long Mike’s proverbial good luck failed to appear.

In less than half an hour, however, the big hands began to come, and the play became strenuous enough to put an end to general conversation. Nothing was heard but the few stock phrases which ordinarily announce the play at poker, and not only the players, but the onlookers, became more and more excited.

A full hand that Gallagher caught pat on Long Mike’s deal gave him the opportunity to open a jack-pot under the guns, which he did for five dollars, there being that amount in the pot. Cutler came in, and so did Hennessy, whereupon Wharton raised it ten dollars.

Long Mike skinned his cards down, and finding three sevens, concluded they were worth playing, so he saw the raise, and Gallagher promptly came back with ten more. Cutler hesitated a little, but saw the double raise, and Hennessy dropped out.

Wharton studied a bit, but finally made it ten more to play, and Long Mike shoved his money forward with a dogged air, as if he knew, as he did, that he was overplaying his hand, but was determined not to be driven out.

Gallagher still had some fifty dollars in front of him, and he pushed that forward eagerly, whereupon Cutler dropped, and Wharton simply made good. Then Long Mike made a few remarks.

They were profane rather than pertinent, being of the nature of a reflection on his own discretion in playing further, but his characteristic dislike to being driven out made him put up his money, and he asked the others what they wanted in the draw. Neither of them took cards, so, with considerable more bad language, Long Mike took two for himself.

“I’m all in,” said Gallagher, and Wharton threw in a white chip carelessly, with the evident thought that Long Mike had no show and would not see any considerable bet.

To his surprise and disgust, however, Long Mike not only saw his side bet, but shoved his whole pile forward. It was clear that he had made fours, or a full, or was bluffing outrageously, but as Wharton himself had four fives, he felt compelled to call.

Gallagher had struck his usual luck, and Long Mike had found his, for his last card was the fourth seven. It put Gallagher out of the game, for he had only twenty dollars more in his pocket, and they refused to let him buy in again for so little. Wharton, however, took another hundred, having only a few chips left.

The next two deals were uneventful, but when Wharton took the cards, there being a jack-pot on, Long Mike opened it. The other two stayed, and again Wharton raised.

No one came back at him, but they all stayed, and on the draw they took two cards apiece. It looked like three of a kind all round.

Long Mike bet a chip. Cutler and Hennessy trailed and Wharton raised. Long Mike stayed and Cutler raised back.

Hennessy, who had been playing cautiously from the beginning, threw down his cards, and Wharton raised again. Still Long Mike stayed, and Cutler raised once more.

Once more Wharton went back at him, and though no single raise had been more than five dollars, Long Mike seemed suddenly suspicious. He looked from one to the other keenly, and then studied his hand carefully. Suddenly he pushed fifty dollars forward, and it was up to Cutler.

That worthy hesitated and looked at Wharton. Whether it was a look of inquiry is doubtful, but Stumpy chose to consider it so, and he violated all poker etiquette unhesitatingly.

“Why don’t ye play yer own hand, ye omadhaun,” he demanded, fiercely, “an’ not be lookin’ at yer pal for insthructions?”

The uproar came on the instant. The players all sprang to their feet, upsetting the table, and Wharton and Cutler both reached for their guns. Hennessy, however, grabbed Cutler, and Stumpy seized Wharton’s wrist in a grip of iron.

“Ye’ll not shoot,” he said. “Ye’ve kilt wan man in Brownsville already, an’ that’s enough. We foight different here. Av ye feel yerself aggrieved, Oi’ll front ye, man to man, but there’ll be no gun in yer hand. Sure I saw yez passin’ signals to yer pal, so I’m thinkin’ ye’ll play no more poker here, ayther.”

The hubbub was indescribable, but when it became possible to distinguish voices it appeared that popular sentiment was on Stumpy’s side. Wharton and Cutler refused to fight with nature’s weapons, and, since they were not allowed possession of their pistols again, they retired in as good order as possible to the landing-place, where another boat was just coming in.

After they had gone up the river together, Stumpy said confidentially to his dog Peter:

“Sure, I saw nothin’ out o’ way, Peter, but ye’ll not mention that same. Thim gamblers is pizen, an’ the quickest way o’ gettin’ rid o’ thim was the best.”

And Peter barked loudly and wagged the remains of his tail.