Wolfville Days

Hall Pl

r I dallies tharwith, it is onder the head of amoosements. "Do I regyard gamblin' as immoral? No; I don't reckon none now I do. This bein' what you-all church sharps calls moral is somewhat a matter of health, an' likewise the way you feels. Sick folks usual is a heap more moral than when their health's that excellent it's tantalizin'. "Speakin' of morals, I recalls people who would scorn kyards, but who'd admire to buy a widow's steers for four dollars an' saw 'em off ag'in for forty. They'd take four hundred dollars if some party, locoed to a degree which permits said outrage, would turn up. The right or wrong, what yo

al that a-way,' say

sin' the ante for the limit before the draw. Mighty likely thar's a reason why one's moral an' the other's black an' bad, but I admits onblushin'ly that the onearthin' t

days; we frequent talks of it immoderate. Cherokee's views an' mine is side an' side, mostl

me sport who's locoed by bad luck, or thinks he's wronged gets diffusive with his gun. At sech e

a talker, but in his way he's a mighty gregar'ous gent. About some things he's game as hornets, Cherokee is; but his nerve fails

ay-eyed sport is robbin' his roll for somebody who's settin'

riches an' the poverty of Wolfville is sort o' exposin' itse'f 'round onder his nose; it's a open book to him; an' the knowledge of who's flat, or who's flush, i

the dance hall with them alms he's wrung, an' proceeds on a debauch. 'You oughter not allow them ornery folks to do you. If you'd cultivate the habit of lettin' every gent go

ead, let him loose with the whiskey. The money's his. When I gives a gent a stake, thar's nothin' held back. I don't go playin' the despot as to how he blows it

t over new, I quits an' don't buck his notions about dispensin' charity no more. "Thar's times when this yere Cherokee Hall caroms on a gent who's high-strung that a-way, an' won't take no donati

xy an' caps him into a little poker. An' in the course of an hour-for he has to go slow an' cunnin', so he don't arouse the victim to suspicions that he's bein'

loses nothin' nor quits behind on these yere benevolences. Which I oft observes

ight along. Whenever luck's ag'in him to a p'int where he's lost half his roll, he breaks the last half in two an' gives one part to some charity racket. he tells me himse'f he's been

puts up about Providence stockin' a deck your way, an' makin' good them gifts. At l

so he can pull his freight for home. He's come spraddlin' into the West full of hope, an' allowin' he's goin

destinies an' fix 'em up a lot. Bein' as Ellis is a easy maverick to wound, Cherokee decides it's better to let him think he wins the stuff, an' not lacerate hi

s is got rid of, an'

ittle poker with Elli

in' her three-handed,

objects of the meetin

y a dummy

rol no faro game like he can poker, says 'No;' he's dead weary of faro, turnin' it day an' dark;

s the copper. Before I can restore them conditions, the queen falls to lose; an' not havin' no copper on my bet, of course, I'm impoverished for that hundred as aforesaid. You knows the roole- every bet goes as it lays. Said statoote is fully in force in Tucson; an' declinin' to allow anythin' for wild shootin' by that fool marshal, them outcasts corrals my chips. "However do I know thar's an accident?" says the dealer, as he rakes in that queen bet, while I'm expoundin' why it should be comin' to me. "Mebby she's an accident, an' mebby ag'in that hom'cide who's bustin' 'round yere

r faro- bank. Dan plays but little; usual, he merely picks up his kyards, cusses a lot, an' passes out. Now an' then, when it'

on tail-first an' scand'lous, Cherokee an' Dan is gettin' a few layers of fat on Ellis' ribs. But

, says 'Yes,' an' as Dan an' Cherokee can't say 'No' without bein' onp'lite, the avaricious gent butts in. It all disturbs Cherokee, who's a nervous sharp; an' when he sees how greedy the avaricious gent is for what he deems to be a shore thing, he concloodes to drop him plenty hard. "It's four-hand poker now, an' the game wags on

loo chips, the par value whereof is ten dollars. "'You breaks for ten?' says the avaricious gent, who's on Cherokee's left an' has the last say; 'w

does somethin' no one ever sees him do before. He gets quer'lo

relyin' on bluffin' me, or out-luckin' me on the draw. Well, you can't bluff; I'll see this yere through,' says Cherokee, puttin' up two more sky-colored beans an' actin' like he's gettin' heated, 'if it takes my last chip. As I do, however, jest to onmask you an' show my friend

e avaricious gent's holdin' a brace of kings. He's delighted with Chero

jacks?' says the avaricious gent. Which he's

ays,' replies Che

he avaricious gent, s

ag'in! I can't beat nothin'; which I couldn't beat a drum! "The avaricious gent c'llects them two azure bones; after which he di

rokee, displayin' a ace in a foolish way, 'I upholds

ny weather. Cherokee picks up his hand after the draw, an' the avaric

mighty savage, like he's ugly

outen your moccasins if I wasn't reepressed by a limit whereof a child should be ashamed. I shore do

em three crowned heads he holds; 'don't howl all night about a wrong what's so easy to rectify

made up his mind to die right yere, Cherokee turns in without no more words an' bets five hun

some for this pot i

oney's up; an' his to

t's the way this sordid sport lines up Cherokee's hand. "'Merely to show you the error of your ways,' he remarks, 'an' to teach you to lead a 'happier an' a better life, I sees your five hundre

he shoves his dust to the center. "Cherokee's peevishness is gone, an' h

r, as one looks in his face, that them trio of kings ain't no sech monstrosities as they was. He ai

raise over

'By the time I gets a decent hand every sport at the table's broke. What show do

imb, an' he somehow begins to feel it. When the money's up, Cherok

-all lose this time; but if you'll only paste them dogmas I gives you in your sombrero, an' read 'em over from time to time, you'll notice they flows a profit. We three, 'concloodes Cherokee, turnin' ag'in to Dan an' Ellis, 'will now resoome our wrong