The record-union., 1896-09-13

he turns over.
III be dad burned if 1 don't bleeve
seed whar that thar pea VENT" ejacu-
lated the Missourian. He had noticed
walnut shell raised slightly, its rim
resting on the pea, and had seen the
nutshell man" lower the shell, appar-
entity with the pea inside. He walked
up to the counter and remarked: IF
you want to, I'll put up my two burros
gin hundred dollars that the peas
under that thar she'll"
III go yOu," responded the gambler,
| and the Missourian smiled. He raised
the shell. There was no pea in sight!
He had lost his donkeys. The nutshell
man smiled.
A tall man in rough miners garb had
been an interested spectator. He, too,
was stranger in the camp, having
come in only that evening. He left the
room and in a few moments returned
carrying in his hand leather wallet
He went up to the counter and asked:
How much in the bank?'
1.-TWO thousand said the gambler,
"aDd the burrOs."
alright said the stranger, "Pll bet
twenty-five hundred against the bank
| that the pea is under this she'll"
"Good!" responded the gambler. The
crowd drew nearer in breathless excite
ment.
The stranger raised a she'll Under it
lay the pea. A volley of oaths burst
| from the gamblers lips, while the
crowd looked on in great enjoyment of
this joke. Most of them knew as well
as did the gambler that the latter had
| not left the pea there, and the stranger
mn lf hox, Tod c1Ifef1
a game himself, else he would not have
| been able to slip the pea under the shell
as he raised it. The spectators were
bound to see fair play, and the wrathful
gambler was compelled to hand over
$1,000 to the stranger. The latter placed
the money in his wallet and then turned
| to the MiSSOurian. Il give you back
your burros," he said. Take my ad-
vice, and don't try gambling any more
at least not till you're onto your job.
Drinks for the crowd" he said. walking
up to the bar. He paid the bill and,
| lighting a cigar, left the room.
| He paused at the open entrance Of a
house next door. A lone musician drew
forth discordant sounds from a violin,
which, if one judged it's age from it's
appearance, had at least lived long
| enough to be a StradivariuS. A num-
| ber of gaily dressed and hideously
painted women, with bare shoulders
and arms, and wearing short skirts,
were dancing with men in rough min
| erS' costumes, some of the latter bear
ing unmistakable signs of having seen
many days hard service. At one end
| of the room was bar and now and
| then a couple would go UP to it, and
| the woman as well as the man would
drain the contents of glass that would
make the head of a "tenderfoot'' swim.
| A painted woman caught the stranger
by the arm and drew him inside. Be
fore he realized it, he was whirling with
the mad throng. The dance ended, they
| followed several couples to the bar, the
| woman ordering whisky while the
| stranger took a cigar, the man paying
for both. Then he went back to place
| near the door.
| One of the dancers he remarked was
| especially graceful. He noticed that
| she did not handy remarks with the
men, as did the other women. Her face
was unpainted, her dress less glaring
than those of the others. There was
something of refinement in her carriage
and manner strangely at variance with
her surroundings. He noticed that she
only touched the glass to her lips when
she went to the bar, which was often,
for she seemed to have many admirers.
Once, when dancing, she came quite
near him, and he started in surprise.
Older sadder careworn, her face was
strangely like the face Of one he had
known and loved long years before
After a while he went up to her and
touched her on the arm.
''Will you dance with me?" he asked.
She started at the sound of his voice
and, turning, looked him straight in the
eyes with an expression of mingled
gladness and terror. Then with the
words, "Burt Kingsbury." she covered
her face with her hands, and he saw the
red flush of shame on her cheeks steal
down over her throat.
"Agnesn' He uttered the name in a
tone of blended surprise, joy and in
quiry. Just then the music commenced,
and man came forward and seized
her roughly by the arm. 1t was the
nutshell man" whom Kingsbury had
beaten at his own game. He had been
jealous watcher of the scene that had
just been enacted.
Come on!" he said, pulling at the
woman.
LET go of her arm!" said Kingsbury.
'She promised to dance with me.
What business is it Of yours ?" asked
the gambler, defantly.
You'll find out if you don't let go of
herr said Kingsbury, advancing wrath
fully.
The musicians had ceased playing and
1,e.n ha1 n o1A
actors in this strange scene. Quick as
thought the gambler let go Of the
woman's arm: there was the flash of
knifeblade, and with groan Burt
Kingsbury staggered back and fell. the
blood pouring from a wound in his
breast. The woman gave a piercing
shrek and fell on her knees: she took
the wounded mans head on her lap and
covered his lips with kisses. while the
blood flowed over her light dress.
streal<ing and spotting it with strange
fantastic figures.
AS soon as the deed was done the
gambler had forced his way through
the amazed and supplied throng. In
another instant he would have vanished
through the door, but quite unexpected
ly the fist of the tall and muscular Mis-
sCurian shot out and landed a terrific
blow on the gamblers head. which
brought him with a thud to the floor.
Next morning the burros, on their way
to the springs, shied and snorted with
fright at sight of a mans body dang
ling from the limb of tree 1t was the
gambler. He had played his last game
and been beaten.