Part 30

The capper offered to loan the merchant some money to make up the balance, but I would not allow it. At last he put up his watch and diamond pin, and went to turn the jack. Of course he lost. Afterwards he came to me and gave me a check for $1,000, and I returned him his jewelry and money. We stopped for half an hour at one of the landings, and he slipped off and countermanded the payment of the check by telegraph. When I presented the check at the bank I was shown the dispatch, and to this day the check has never been paid, though the merchant still does business on Canal Street. He was an honorable, high-toned merchant.

MY PARTNER WON.

Dunlap and I got on the steamer Paragoad one evening at Baton Rouge, and seeing no one of board that I thought was of any particular service to me, I got a bottle of wine and a good cigar and was sitting in the hall, when a coal merchant whom I knew very well in Baton Rouge came along, and seeing me said:

"Devol, this is rather a slim trip for your business."

Laughingly I replied, "Yes."

"But that don't hinder us from taking a drink together, does it?"

"I have just had one, thank you."

He insisted, and I did not hang back; so, after smoking, we sat down near the bar, when he remarked that this was the first boat he ever was on where they didn't have a game of poker. I thought myself it was something strange, as in those days everybody played cards. At last we got to throwing for the drinks, when he finally remarked that if there were one or two more around we might have a good game of poker. Though I said I didn't care to play, as I was sleepy, yet he persisted. Along came Dunlap, whom he did not know, and I asked him if he ever played poker. He replied a little, when he was at home in Illinois.

"Come on, then, and take a drink," said the coal man.

I gave Dunlap the wink, and excusing himself for a moment he went to his room, and procuring a pack of marked cards gave them to the barkeeper. When he came in, the coal man at once began:

"Sit down, and we'll make up a game."

Then Dunlap asked the barkeeper for some cards, and of course the marked pack was handed out. It was then half-past 12 o'clock. We started in at a $20 limit, and played until the table was needed for breakfast. The coal man and myself were both losers. He said he lost $2,300. I lost $900, but as I lost it to my partner, I was not broken-hearted.

HAUNTED.

One night, anxious to reach New Orleans, I took a stern-wheel boat out of Wichita; and as it was late, the clerk said the only berth he could give me was in a state-room with another man. I crawled into the top berth, and towards morning I was awakened by a noise beneath me. Carefully looking over the berth, I spied the occupant of the lower berth with a long Colt's navy revolver in his hand. His hair was disheveled, and his eye was wild, while his actions indicated that he was hunting for somebody. I lay very quiet, however, thinking that he was either a victim of delirium tremens or a lunatic. At last he arose and opened the door and went into the cabin, the only occupants of which were the porter and the watchman. They lost no time in leaving, when they saw a man clad only in a night-shirt and drawers, with a drawn revolver in his hand.

I arose and dressed, as I had had enough of such a room-mate; and on telling the clerk of the facts, he said:

"That's strange, for I knew the man very well. He never drinks, but he has killed three men."

That settled it with me. He was haunted by the ghosts of his murdered victims.

McCOOLE AND COBURN.

When the McCoole and Coburn fight came on, I left New Orleans for the purpose of witnessing the sport. On reaching Cincinnati, John Franklin invited me to go over to Latonia Springs and see Coburn. I did so, and spent a pleasant afternoon with him. He invited me to come over and keep him company; and as I thought I could turn an honest penny as well as have a little recreation, I packed up my faro tools and went into the dark and bloody ground back of Covington. When any strangers came along, I opened up and caught all that was in sight.

As the time for the fight drew near, a number of Coburn's friends came on from New York. They were glad to see him in such good heart and spirits. They came with a good deal of money to back him up; and as the boys had to do something to while away the weary hours, Joe introduced them to my partner, saying that he was a New Orleans gentleman who had come on to aid me in money matters. Joe called him a planter, and the New Yorkers were so pleased with him that they invited him into a game of poker. The result was that he did them up for a few hundred, and one of the party, who was an old faro dealer, secured a few of the cards, examined them in another room, and coming back, observed:

"Count me out of this game. I don't want any more of it."

That broke things all up; and the next day they began on Coburn and gave him a terrible cursing for steering them against such a game as that, when they came on with good intentions to back him in the fight. They never said anything, however, to Hoy, as they knew he was always looking for the best of every game, and was as ready to fleece a friend as a foe.

When we were going down to Cold Spring, I opened up on the cars and won a little money. Just then a man stepped up and began to get out his money, when Elliott and his gang rushed in, picked up the fellow, and threw him up against the top of the car. When he came down he didn't have a cent. I was amused to see him hunt around for his money.

When we reached the ground I opened out, having a negro to hold the stand for me. At last, as the crowd began to rush for the ring, I told Hoy that I would go and see the fun; so I handed Hoy all my money except a lot of broken bank-notes that I had. This I rolled in a large wad and placed conspicuously in a side coat pocket. I noticed, as I edged close up to the ring, that I was closely eyed by the thieves, and it was not long before the pocket- book disappeared. Then I made a terrible squeal, and when the reporters came around I gave out that I had been robbed of $3,500. The next day the papers all had an account of the robbery of Mr. Devol, of New Orleans. Hazen at last found my pocket-book, which was worth more than the money it contained, and had a good advertisement free.

SALTED DOWN.

If the old saying, "Every man has his price," be true, then every man can be caught on some scheme or trick. There are persons who have never made a bet of any kind in their lives, that would do so if they saw something that they knew to be a sure winner. Then there are others who will bet on many things, but they pride themselves on being too smart to bet on any man's trick; and the more they see others doing so, the more sanguine they are that no one could ever catch them with chaff. I have met many of the latter class, and always tried to down them. They, of course, would not bit at the monte bait, for it was too stale for them; so I would study sometimes for hours how to take the conceit out of them.

I remember being on board the steamer Grand Duke, coming out of New Orleans, at one time just after the Mardi Gras Festival. The boat was crowded with passengers, and we were having a very lively game of monte, when a fellow from the Red River country, named Picket, came up to the table and began pulling coat-tails. He was one of those smart Alecks who knew all the tricks (or at least he thought he did), and he imagined that it was his especial duty to warn others of their danger. If he could not stop them with a tail pull, he would tell them not to bet, as I was a regular gambler and would win their money sure when they thought the sure thing was in their favor; and some of them would not heed his warning, but put down their money, and of course lose it.

I put up with Picket's interference for some time, and then I put up my cards, resolving to down the Red River man if it lay in my power. I invited all hands to join me in a drink, and then excused myself, saying: