The Winds of Chance

Winds of Chance, The

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Title: The Winds of Chance
Author: Rex Beach
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THE WINDS OF CHANCE
By REX BEACH
Author of "THE SILVER HORDE" "THE SPOILERS" "THE IRON
TRAIL" Etc.
CHAPTER I
With an ostentatious flourish Mr. "Lucky" Broad placed a crisp
ten-dollar bill in an eager palm outstretched across his folding- table.
"The gentleman wins and the gambler loses!" Mr. Broad proclaimed to
the world. "The eye is quicker than the hand, and the dealer's moans is
music to the stranger's ear." With practised touch he rearranged the
three worn walnut-shells which constituted his stock in trade. Beneath
one of them he deftly concealed a pellet about the size of a five-grain
allopathic pill. It was the erratic behavior of this tiny ball, its
mysterious comings and goings, that had summoned Mr. Broad's
audience and now held its observant interest. This audience, composed
of roughly dressed men, listened attentively to the seductive monologue

which accompanied the dealer's deft manipulations, and was greatly
entertained thereby. "Three tiny tepees in a row and a little black
medicine-man inside." The speaker's voice was high-pitched and it
carried like a "thirtythirty." "You see him walk in, you open the door,
and-- you double your money. Awfully simple! Simpully awful! What?
As I live! The gentleman wins ten more--ten silver-tongued song-birds,
ten messengers of mirth--the price of a hard day's toil. Take it, sir, and
may it make a better and a stronger man of you. Times are good and I
spend my money free. I made it packin' grub to Linderman, four bits a
pound, but--easy come, easy go. Now then, who's next? You've seen
me work. I couldn't baffle a sore-eyed Siwash with snow-glasses."
Lucky Broad's three-legged table stood among some stumps beside the
muddy roadway which did service as the main street of Dyea and along
which flowed an irregular stream of pedestrians; incidental to his
practised manipulation of the polished walnut-shells he maintained an
unceasing chatter of the sort above set down. Now his voice was loud
and challenging, now it was apologetic, always it stimulated curiosity.
One moment he was jubilant and gay, again he was contrite and
querulous. Occasionally he burst forth into plaintive self-denunciations.
Fixing a hypnotic gaze upon a bland, blue-eyed bystander who had just
joined the charmed circle, he murmured, invitingly: "Better try your
luck, Olaf. It's Danish dice--three chances to win and one to lose."
The object of his address shook his head. "Aye ant Danish, Aye ban
Norvegen," said he.
"Danish dice or Norwegian poker, they're both the same. I'll deal you a
free hand and it won't cost you a cent. Fix your baby blues on the little
ball and watch me close. Don't let me deceive you. Now then, which
hut hides the grain?"
Noting a half-dozen pairs of eyes upon him, the Norseman became
conscious that he was a center of interest. He grinned half- heartedly
and, after a brief hesitation, thrust forth a clumsy paw, lifted a shell,
and exposed the object of general curiosity.

"You guessed it!" There was commendation, there was pleased surprise,
in Mr. Broad's tone. "You can't fool a foreigner, can you, boys? My,
my! Ain't it lucky for me that we played for fun? But you got to give
me another chance, Lars; I'll fool you yet. In walks the little pill once
more, I make the magic pass, and you follow me attentively, knowing
in your heart of hearts that I'm a slick