Monroe City Democrat. (Monroe City, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1904-09-29
GAMBLING
WITH FATE
By WILLIAM WALLACE COOK
Author OF 1.-THE Gold Cleaners; A Story %
The Crauite Tauks." "wilby's Dan"
"Hh Friend the Enemy, Rogers
Of Butte" Ete., Ktn.
lCopyrisut, ~, WI WnLian waLIAes Cookl
CHAPTER ".
BARRELS ENCOUNTER WITH
STtRGIS.

them. Much of the glory of Anaconda
has departed and Sandy Bar has gone
the way of the played out mining
camp, yet tradition deals generously
with the exploits of Nate Darrel-often
too generously.
The strange features of his feud with
Murgatroyd were sufficiently incred-
ible in cold truth: and when the out
line of the facts faded with lapse
of years, imagination was drawn upon
TO sharpen the "reminiscences. The
added material was not always to Oar
rel's credit.
Yet no one who now remembers OAR
rel will ever tell you that he tried to be
anything but gentleman. II the part
was beyond him, it was solely the fault
of his unfortunate vocation.
In any other walk of life his sterling
qualities of mind and heart would have
claimed their tribute of respect and So
cial position. A man who believed that
his fate was of his own making could
hardly have been ignorant OF this: but
passion for play was too deeply in
grained in his nature. The notoriety
he had courted and won, in any other
profession would have been the mill
stone that pulled him under.
The recovery Of the boys money
aptly illustrates barrels character.
He could not see anything wrong in
turning the tables on the blacklegs
and it was a pleasure for him 10 be
able to do II.
He played an honorable" game; and
he considered it honorable to worst
couple of sharpers at their own tao
tics.
AS he made his way back along the
struggling street toward Hawkbill
Hendersons he was warily watchful.
Recent events had taken his attention
somewhat from his main purpose in
coming TO Sandy Bar and the murder
Gus Murgatroyd might be lurking any
where in the shadows or logging his
steps.
The wheezy tones Of fiddIes. guitars
and a bass-viol, accompanied by hoarse
feet echoed from a building across
the way. Other buildings along the
street were aglare with light and rife
with a clink Of glasses, a rattle of
poker chips and boisterous cries Of
drinkers and players.
There were few on the street at that
moment and Darrell passed rapidly on
in the direction of the gambling place
Abruptly form hurled itself across
his path from a dark space between
$50 shantieS on his left.
Instantly revolver was in his hand
"Now then, my buck" cried a voice
sharp with passion, well settle our
differences man to man"
I've have no differences to settle,
Sturgis," returned Darrell, relieved and
not little surprised. He was looking
for MurgatrOyd, not Sturgis.
The gambler was in a blind, unrea-
soning fury. In the light of later
events it was patent that Darrell had
set trap for him and beaten him
and his confederate at their own game.
When a man like Sturgis has such
a grievance there is but one way in
which the score can be settled. Stur-
gis was lercely determined ana Oar
rel was quick 10 comprehend his peril.
iiaring lamp in front of The dance
hhall opposite cast a dim light over the
kscene. The field was clear for the en-
kcounter, no one being abroad in the
tstreet apart from the two concerned.
Rieidly erect the two men stood. re-
Ivolvers ready and swinging at their
sides, their eyes alert and watching
catlike each others slightest move
ment.
"You re either the devil himself OF
else you re-Ndle Darrell of Frisco
said Sturgis, between his teeth. NC
man could play the game you did with
out being one or the other. 1t was
barrels discard you threw into the
deadwood, and you sat between Cliff
and me and helped yourself to just
what you wanted out of the pack"
, Darrell laughed a little at that. II
wasn't the first time his phenomenal
skill had led a gambler to confounG
him with the arch fiend
You're a bungler, Sturgis," said he
"and have yet to learn the first rudi.
ments of your profession. have
taught you lesson and If you want tc
live long enough to profit by it you'll
put that gun in your pocket and take
yourself off,"
An exasperated cry fell from Stur.
gis' lips. Recklessly he threw himself
forward, raising the six-shooter to 6
level with his eyes.
There was no blood on Nate DarrePi
hands. In his whole career he hat
never found 1t necessary to protect his