Shorty shook his head indignantly, as he spread his chips out in the
vicinities of ‘3,’ ’11,’ and ’17,’ and tossed a spare chip on the
‘green.’
“Hell is sure cluttered with geezers that played systems,” he
exposited, as the keeper raked the table.
From idly watching, Smoke became fascinated, following closely every
detail of the game from the whirling of the ball to the making and
the paying of the bets. He made no plays, however, merely
contenting himself with looking on. Yet so interested was he, that
Shorty, announcing that he had had enough, with difficulty drew
Smoke away from the table. The game-keeper returned Shorty the gold
sack he had deposited as a credential for playing, and with it went
a slip of paper on which was scribbled, “Out . . . 350 dollars.”
Shorty carried the sack and the paper across the room and handed
them to the weigher, who sat behind a large pair of gold-scales.
Out of Shorty’s sack he weighed 350 dollars, which he poured into
the coffer of the house.
“That hunch of yours was another one of those statistics,” Smoke
jeered.
“I had to play it, didn’t I, in order to find out?” Shorty retorted.
“I reckon I was crowdin’ some just on account of tryin’ to convince
you they’s such a thing as hunches.”
“Never mind, Shorty,” Smoke laughed. “I’ve got a hunch right now–”
Shorty’s eyes sparkled as he cried eagerly: “What is it? Kick in
an’ play it pronto.”
“It’s not that kind, Shorty. Now, what I’ve got is a hunch that
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59
some day I’ll work out a system that will beat the spots off that
table.”
“System!” Shorty groaned, then surveyed his partner with a vast
pity. “Smoke, listen to your side-kicker an’ leave system alone.
Systems is sure losers. They ain’t no hunches in systems.”
“That’s why I like them,” Smoke answered. “A system is statistical.
When you get the right system you can’t lose, and that’s the
difference between it and a hunch. You never know when the right
hunch is going wrong.”
“But I know a lot of systems that went wrong, an’ I never seen a
system win.” Shorty paused and sighed. “Look here, Smoke, if
you’re gettin’ cracked on systems this ain’t no place for you, an’
it’s about time we hit the trail again.”
II.
During the several following weeks, the two partners played at cross
purposes. Smoke was bent on spending his time watching the roulette
game in the Elkhorn, while Shorty was equally bent on travelling
trail. At last Smoke put his foot down when a stampede was proposed
for two hundred miles down the Yukon.
“Look here, Shorty,” he said, “I’m not going. That trip will take
ten days, and before that time I hope to have my system in proper
working order. I could almost win with it now. What are you
dragging me around the country this way for anyway?”
“Smoke, I got to take care of you,” was Shorty’s reply. “You’re
getting nutty. I’d drag you stampedin’ to Jericho or the North Pole
if I could keep you away from that table.”
“It’s all right, Shorty. But just remember I’ve reached full man-
grown, meat-eating size. The only dragging you’ll do, will be
dragging home the dust I’m going to win with that system of mine,
and you’ll most likely have to do it with a dog-team.”
Shorty’s response was a groan.
“And I don’t want you to be bucking any games on your own,” Smoke
went on. “We’re going to divide the winnings, and I’ll need all our
money to get started. That system’s young yet, and it’s liable to
trip me for a few falls before I get it lined up.”
III.
At last, after long hours and days spent at watching the table, the
night came when Smoke proclaimed he was ready, and Shorty, glum and
pessimistic, with all the seeming of one attending a funeral,
accompanied his partner to the Elkhorn. Smoke bought a stack of
chips and stationed himself at the game-keeper’s end of the table.
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60
Again and again the ball was whirled and the other players won or
lost, but Smoke did not venture a chip. Shorty waxed impatient.
“Buck in, buck in,” he urged. “Let’s get this funeral over. What’s
the matter? Got cold feet?”
Smoke shook his head and waited. A dozen plays went by, and then,
suddenly, he placed ten one-dollar chips on ’26.’ The number won,
and the keeper paid Smoke three hundred and fifty dollars. A dozen
plays went by, twenty plays, and thirty, when Smoke placed ten
dollars on ’32.’ Again he received three hundred and fifty dollars.
“It’s a hunch.” Shorty whispered vociferously in his ear. “Ride
it! Ride it!”
Half an hour went by, during which Smoke was inactive, then he
placed ten dollars on ’34’ and won.
“A hunch!” Shorty whispered.
“Nothing of the sort,” Smoke whispered back. “It’s the system.
Isn’t she a dandy?”
“You can’t tell me,” Shorty contended. “Hunches comes in mighty
funny ways. You might think it’s a system, but it ain’t. Systems
is impossible. They can’t happen. It’s a sure hunch you’re
playin’.”
Smoke now altered his play. He bet more frequently, with single
chips, scattered here and there, and he lost more often than he won.
“Quit it,” Shorty advised. “Cash in. You’ve rung the bull’s eye
three times, an’ you’re ahead a thousand. You can’t keep it up.”
At this moment the ball started whirling, and Smoke dropped ten
chips on ’26.’ The ball fell into the slot of ’26,’ and the keeper
again paid him three hundred and fifty dollars. “If you’re plum
crazy an’ got the immortal cinch, bet’m the limit,” Shorty said.
“Put down twenty-five next time.”
A quarter of an hour passed, during which Smoke won and lost on
small scattering bets. Then, with the abruptness that characterized
his big betting, he placed twenty-five dollars on the ‘double
nought,’ and the keeper paid him eight hundred and seventy-five
dollars.
“Wake me up, Smoke, I’m dreamin’,” Shorty moaned.
Smoke smiled, consulted his note-book, and became absorbed in
calculation. He continually drew the note-book from his pocket, and
from time to time jotted down figures.
A crowd had packed densely around the table, while the players
themselves were attempting to cover the same numbers he covered. It
was then that a change came over his play. Ten times in succession
he placed ten dollars on ’18’ and lost. At this stage he was
deserted by the hardiest. He changed his number and won another
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61
three hundred and fifty dollars. Immediately the players were back
with him, deserting again after a series of losing bets.
“Quit it, Smoke, quit it,” Shorty advised. “The longest string of
hunches is only so long, an’ your string’s finished. No more
bull’s-eyes for you.”
“I’m going to ring her once again before I cash in,” Smoke answered.
For a few minutes, with varying luck, he played scattering chips
over the table, and then dropped twenty-five dollars on the ‘double
nought.’
“I’ll take my slip now,” he said to the dealer, as he won.
“Oh, you don’t need to show it to me,” Shorty said, as they walked
to the weigher. “I ben keepin’ track. You’re something like
thirty-six hundred to the good. How near am I?”
“Thirty-six-thirty,” Smoke replied. “And now you’ve got to pack the
dust home. That was the agreement.”
IV.
“Don’t crowd your luck,” Shorty pleaded with Smoke, the next night,
in the cabin, as he evidenced preparations to return to the Elkhorn.
“You played a mighty long string of hunches, but you played it out.
If you go back you’ll sure drop all your winnings.”
“But I tell you it isn’t hunches, Shorty. It’s statistics. It’s a
system. It can’t lose.”
“System be damned. They ain’t no such a thing as system. I made
seventeen straight passes at a crap table once. Was it system?
Nope. It was fool luck, only I had cold feet an’ didn’t dast let it
ride. It it’d rid, instead of me drawin’ down after the third pass,
I’d a won over thirty thousan’ on the original two-bit piece.”
“Just the same, Shorty, this is a real system.”
“Huh! You got to show me.”
“I did show you. Come on with me now and I’ll show you again.”
When they entered the Elkhorn, all eyes centred on Smoke, and those
about the table made way for him as he took up his old place at the
keeper’s end. His play was quite unlike that of the previous night.
In the course of an hour and a half he made only four bets, but each
bet was for twenty-five dollars, and each bet won. He cashed in
thirty-five hundred dollars, and Shorty carried the dust home to the
cabin.
“Now’s the time to jump the game,” Shorty advised, as he sat on the