The Winds of Chance | Page 5

an odd sense of unreality he felt the world turn back ten
years. He had seen shell-games at circuses and fairgrounds when he
was much younger, but he supposed they had long since been
abandoned in favor of more ingenious and less discreditable methods of
robbery. Evidently, however, there were some gulls left, for this device
appeared to be well patronized. Still doubting the evidence of his ears,
he joined the group.
"The gentleman wins and the gambler loses!" droned the dealer as he

paid a bet. "Now then, we're off for another journey. Who'll ride with
me this time?"
Phillips was amazed that any one could be so simple-minded as to
squander his money upon such a notoriously unprofitable form of
entertainment. Nevertheless, men were playing, and they did not seem
to suspect that the persons whom the dealer occasionally paid were his
confederates.
The operator maintained an incessant monologue. At the moment of
Pierce's arrival he was directing it at an ox-eyed individual, evidently
selected to be the next victim. The fellow was stupid, nevertheless he
exercised some caution at first. He won a few dollars, then he lost a few,
but, alas! the gambling fever mounted in him and greed finally
overcame his hesitation. With an eager gesture he chose a shell and
Phillips felt a glow of satisfaction at the realization that the man had
once more guessed aright. Drawing forth a wallet, the fellow laid it on
the table.
"I'll bet the lump," he cried.
The dealer hesitated. "How much you got in that alligator valise?"
"Two hundred dollars."
"Two hundred berries on one bush!" The proprietor of the game was
incredulous. "Boys, he aims to leave me cleaner than a snow-bird."
Seizing the walnut-shell between his thumb and forefinger, he turned it
over, but instead of exposing the elusive pellet he managed, by an
almost imperceptible forward movement, to roll it out from under its
hiding-place and to conceal it between his third and fourth fingers. The
stranger was surprised, dumfounded, at sight of the empty shell. He
looked on open-mouthed while his wallet was looted of its contents.
"Every now and then I win a little one," the gambler announced as he
politely returned the bill-case to its owner. He lifted another shell, and
by some sleight-of-hand managed to replace the pellet upon the table,
then gravely flipped a five-dollar gold piece to one of his boosters.

Phillips's eyes were quick; from where he stood he had detected the
maneuver and it left him hot with indignation. He felt impelled to tell
the victim how he had been robbed, but thought better of the impulse
and assured himself that this was none of his affair. For perhaps ten
minutes he looked on while the sheep- shearing proceeded.
After a time there came a lull and the dealer raised his voice to entice
new patrons. Meanwhile, he paused to roll a cigarette the size of a
wheat straw. While thus engaged there sounded the hoarse blast of a
steamer's whistle in the offing and he turned his head. Profiting by this
instant of inattention a hand reached across the table and lifted one of
the walnut-shells. There was nothing under it.
"Five bucks on this one!" A soiled bill was placed beside one of the
two remaining shells, the empty one.
Thus far Phillips had followed the pea unerringly, therefore he was
amazed at the new better's mistake.
The dealer turned back to his layout and winked at the bystanders,
saying, "Brother, I'll bet you ten more that you've made a bad bet." His
offer was accepted. Simultaneously Phillips was seized with an intense
desire to beat this sharper at his own game; impulsively he laid a
protecting palm over the shell beneath which he knew the little sphere
to lie.
"I'll pick this one," he heard himself say.
"Better let me deal you a new hand," the gambler suggested.
"Nothing of the sort," a man at Phillips' shoulder broke in. "Hang on to
that shell, kid. You're right and I'm going down for the size of his
bankroll." The speaker was evidently a miner, for he carried a bulky
pack upon his shoulders. He placed a heavy palm over the back of
Phillips' hand, then extracted from the depths of his overalls a fat roll of
paper money.
The size of this wager, together with the determination of its owner,

appeared briefly to nonplus the dealer. He voiced a protest, but the
miner forcibly overbore it:
"Say, I eat up this shell stuff!" he declared. "It's my meat, and I've
trimmed every tinhorn that ever came to my town. There's three
hundred dollars; you cover it, and you cover this boy's bet, too." The
fellow winked reassuringly at Phillips. "You heard him say the sky was