Smoke Bellew by Jack London (chrome ebook reader txt) đ
- Author: Jack London
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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 gamekeeper 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, âOutâ$350.00.â 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 Shortyâs sack he weighed three hundred and fifty dollars, which he poured into the coffer of the house.
âThat hunch of yours was another one of those statistics,â Smoke jeered.
âI had to play it, didnât I, in order to find out?â Shorty retorted. âI reckon I was crowdinâ some just on account of tryinâ to convince you theyâs such a thing as hunches.â
âNever mind, Shorty,â Smoke laughed. âIâve got a hunch right nowââ
Shortyâs eyes sparkled as he cried eagerly: âWhat is it? Kick in anâ play it pronto.â
âItâs not that kind, Shorty. Now, what Iâve got is a hunch that some day Iâll work out a system that will beat the spots off that table.â
âSystem!â Shorty groaned, then surveyed his partner with a vast pity. âSmoke, listen to your side-kicker anâ leave system alone. Systems is sure losers. They ainât no hunches in systems.â
âThatâs why I like them,â Smoke answered. âA system is statistical. When you get the right system you canât lose, and thatâs the difference between it and a hunch. You never know when the right hunch is going wrong.â
âBut I know a lot of systems that went wrong, anâ I never seen a system win.â Shorty paused and sighed. âLook here, Smoke, if youâre gettinâ cracked on systems this ainât no place for you, anâ itâs about time we hit the trail again.â
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.
âLook here, Shorty,â he said, âIâm 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?â
âSmoke, I got to take care of you,â was Shortyâs reply. âYouâre gettinâ nutty. Iâd drag you stampedinâ to Jericho or the North Pole if I could keep you away from that table.â
âItâs all right, Shorty. But just remember Iâve reached full man-grown, meat-eating size. The only dragging youâll do, will be dragging home the dust Iâm going to win with that system of mine, and youâll most likely have to do it with a dog-team.â
Shortyâs response was a groan.
âAnd I donât want you to be bucking any games on your own,â Smoke went on. âWeâre going to divide the winnings, and Iâll need all our money to get started. That systemâs young yet, and itâs liable to trip me for a few falls before I get it lined up.â
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 gamekeeperâs end of the table. Again and again the ball was whirled, and the other players won or lost, but Smoke did not venture a chip. Shorty waxed impatient.
âBuck in, buck in,â he urged. âLetâs get this funeral over. Whatâs the matter? Got cold feet?â
Smoke shook his head and waited. A dozen plays went by, and then, suddenly, he placed ten one-dollar chips on â26.â 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 â32.â Again he received three hundred and fifty dollars.
âItâs a hunch!â Shorty whispered vociferously in his ear. âRide it! Ride it!â
Half an hour went by, during which Smoke was inactive, then he placed ten dollars on â34â and won.
âA hunch!â Shorty whispered.
âNothing of the sort,â Smoke whispered back. âItâs the system. Isnât she a dandy?â
âYou canât tell me,â Shorty contended. âHunches comes in mighty funny ways. You might think itâs a system, but it ainât. Systems is impossible. They canât happen. Itâs a sure hunch youâre playinâ.â
Smoke now altered his play. He bet more frequently, with single chips, scattered here and there, and he lost more often than he won.
âQuit it,â Shorty advised. âCash in. Youâve rung the bullâs-eye three times, anâ youâre ahead a thousand. You canât keep it up.â
At this moment the ball started whirling, and Smoke dropped ten chips on â26.â The ball fell into the slot of â26,â and the keeper again paid him three hundred and fifty dollars.
âIf youâre plum crazy anâ got the immortal cinch, bet âem the limit,â Shorty said. âPut down twenty-five next time.â
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 âdouble naught,â and the keeper paid him eight hundred and seventy-five dollars.
âWake me up, Smoke, Iâm dreaminâ,â Shorty moaned.
Smoke smiled, consulted his notebook, and became absorbed in calculation. He continually drew the notebook 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 â18â and lost. At this stage he was deserted by the hardiest. He changed his number and won another three hundred and fifty dollars. Immediately the players were back with him, deserting again after a series of losing bets.
âQuit it, Smoke, quit it,â Shorty advised. âThe longest string of hunches is only so long, anâ your stringâs finished. No more bullâs-eyes for you.â
âIâm going to ring her once again before I cash in,â Smoke answered.
For a few minutes, with varying luck, he played scattering chips over the table, and then dropped twenty-five dollars on the âdouble naught.â
âIâll take my slip now,â he said to the dealer, as he won.
âOh, you donât need to show it to me,â Shorty said, as they walked to the weigher. âI been keepinâ track. Youâre something like thirty-six hundred to the good. How near am I?â
âThirty-six-sixty,â Smoke replied. âAnd now youâve got to pack the dust home. That was the agreement.â
âDonât crowd your luck,â Shorty pleaded with Smoke, the next night, in the cabin, as he evidenced preparations to return to the Elkhorn. âYou played a mighty long string of hunches, but you played it out. If you go back youâll sure drop all your winnings.â
âBut I tell you it isnât hunches, Shorty. Itâs statistics. Itâs a system. It canât lose.â
âSystem be damned. They ainât 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 anâ didnât dast let it ride. If itâd rid, instead of me drawinâ down after the third pass, Iâd âaâ won over thirty thousanâ on the original two-bit piece.â
âJust the same, Shorty, this is a real system.â
âHuh! You got to show me.â
âI did show you. Come on with me now, and Iâll show you again.â
When they entered the Elkhorn, all eyes centered on Smoke, and those about the table made way for him as he took up his old place at the keeperâs 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.
âNowâs the time to jump the game,â Shorty advised, as he sat on the edge of his bunk and took off his moccasins. âYouâre seven thousanâ ahead. A manâs a fool thatâd crowd his luck harder.â
âShorty, a man would be a blithering lunatic if he didnât keep on backing a winning system like mine.â
âSmoke, youâre a sure bright boy. Youâre college-learnt. You know moreân a minute than I could know in forty thousanâ years. But just the same youâre dead wrong when you call your luck a system. Iâve been around some, anâ seen a few, anâ I tell you straight anâ confidential anâ all-assurinâ, a system to beat a bankinâ game ainât possible.â
âBut Iâm showing you this one. Itâs a pipe.â
âNo, youâre not, Smoke. Itâs a pipe-dream. Iâm asleep. Bimeby Iâll wake up, anâ build the fire, anâ start breakfast.â
âWell, my unbelieving friend, thereâs the dust. Heft it.â
So saying, Smoke tossed the bulging gold-sack upon his partnerâs knees. It weighed thirty-five pounds, and Shorty was fully aware of the crush of its impact on his flesh.
âItâs real,â Smoke hammered his point home.
âHuh! Iâve saw some mighty real dreams in my time. In a dream all things is possible. In real life a system ainât possible. Now, I ainât never been to college, but Iâm plum justified in sizinâ up this gamblinâ orgy of ourn as a sure-enough dream.â
âHamiltonâs âLaw of Parsimony,ââ Smoke laughed.
âI ainât never heard of the geezer, but his dopeâs sure right. Iâm dreaminâ, Smoke, anâ youâre just snoopinâ around in my dream anâ tormentinâ me with system. If you love me, if you sure do love me, youâll just yell, âShorty! Wake up!â Anâ Iâll wake up anâ start breakfast.â
The third night of play, as Smoke laid his first bet, the gamekeeper shoved fifteen dollars back to him.
âTenâs all you can play,â he said. âThe limitâs come down.â
âGettinâ picayune,â Shorty sneered.
âNo one has to play at this table that donât want to,â the keeper retorted. âAnd Iâm willing to say straight out in meeting that weâd sooner your pardner didnât play at our table.â
âScared of his system, eh?â Shorty challenged, as the keeper paid over three hundred and fifty dollars.
âI ainât saying I believe in system, because I donât. There never was a system thatâd beat roulette or any percentage game. But just the same Iâve seen some queer strings of luck, and I ainât going to let this bank go bust if I can help it.â
âCold feet.â
âGambling is just as much business, my friend, as any other business. We ainât philanthropists.â
Night by night, Smoke continued to win. His method of play varied. Expert after expert, in the jam about the table, scribbled down his bets and numbers in vain attempts to work out his system. They complained of their inability to get a clew to start with, and swore that it was pure luck, though the most colossal streak of it they had ever seen.
It was Smokeâs varied play that obfuscated them. Sometimes, consulting his notebook or engaging in long calculations, an hour elapsed without his staking a chip. At other times he would win three limit-bets and clean up a thousand dollars and odd in five or ten minutes. At still other times, his tactics would
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