The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1919-10-09
CHAPTER III.
The End of the Game.

It must have been nearly midnight
before / finally decided to seek few
hours rest below, descending the short
ladder and walking forward along the
open deck for one last glance ahead.
Some time the next day we were to
be in st. Louis, and this expectation
served to brighten my thoughts.
turned back along the deserted deck,
only pausing q moment to glance care
lessly in through the front windows
of the main cabin. The forward por-
ton was wrapped in darkness, and I'M
occupied, but beyond, toward the rear
of the long saloon, a considerable group
Of men were gathered closely about a
small table, above which a swinging
lamp burned brightly, the rays Of light
illuminating the various faces. Gam
bling was no novelty on the great river
in those days, gambling for high
stakes, and surely no ordinary game,
involving a small sum, would ever
arouse the depth Of interest displayed
by these men. Some instinct told me
that the chief players would be Kirby
and Beaucaire. and with quickening
pulse I opened the cabin door and en-
tered.
No one noted my approach, or so
much as glanced up, the attention of
the crowd riveted upon the players.
There were four holding cards-the
judge, Kirby, Carver and McAfee; but
1 judged at glance that the latter
two were merely In the game as pre-
tense, the betting having already gone
far beyond the limit Of their resources.
Without thought as to the cards
they held my eyes sought the faces
of the two chief players, and then Wis
toned the stakes displayed on the table
before them. McAfee and Carter
were clearly enough out Of 1t, their
cards still gripped In their fingers, as
they leaned breathlessly forward to
observe more closely the play. The
Judge sat upright, his attitude strained,
staring down ut his hand, his face
white and eyes burning feverishly.
That he had been drinking heavily was
evident. but Kirby frOnted him In ap-
parent cold Indifference, his feelings
completely masked, with the cards he
held punched in his hands and entirely
concealed from view. Between the two
rested stack of gold coin, roll of
crushed bills and a legal paper Of
some kind, the exact nature of which
I could not determine. 1t was evident
that fortune already rested on that
table, awaiting the flip of card. The
silence, the breathlesS attention, con-
vinced me that the crisis had been
reached-it was the judges move; he
must cover the EAST bet or throw down
his hand loser.
Precipitation beaded his forehead,
and he crunched the cards savagely in
his hands. His glance swept past
the crowd as though he saw nothing
of their faces.
"Another drink, SAM" he called, the
voice trembling. He tossed down the
glass Of liquor as though 1t were SO
much water, hut made no other effort
to speak. You could hear the strained
breathing of the men.
SWELL" said Kirby sneeringly, his
cold gaze surveying his motionless
opponent. "You seem to be taking
your time. Do you cover my bet?"
Someone laughed nervously. and n
voice sang out over my shoulder. "You
might as well 60 the whole hog,
judge. The niggers won't be no good
without the land ter work 'em on.
Fling 'em into the pot-they're as good
as money"
Beaucaire looked up, red-eyed. into
the impressive countenance opposite.
His lips twitched yet managed to make
words issue between them.
'How about that, Kirby" ne asked
hoarsely. "Will you accept bill Of
salew
Kirby grinned, shutting his hand
carelessIy.
"Why not? 'Twon't be the first time