his inamorata an' come a-runnin'.

"'Which, givin' my consent,' says Enright when explainin' about it
later, 'is needed to protect this tempest-tossed lover in the
possession of his skelp. The old gent an' that maiden fa'r has got him
between 'em, an' onless we opens up Wolfville as a refooge, it looks
like they'll cross-lift him into the promised land.'

"But to go back to Dave."

Here my old friend paused and called for refreshments. I seized the
advantage of his silence over a glass of peach and honey, to suggest an
eagerness for the finale of the Tucson love match.

"No," responded my frosty friend, setting down his glass, "we'll pursoo
the queernesses of Dave. That Tucson elopement 'is another story a
heap,' as some wise maverick says some'ers, an' I'll onload it on you
on some other day.

"When Dave evolves the cadencies in the Red Light that evenin', thar's
Enright, Moore an' me along with Dan Boggs, bein' entertained by
hearin' Cherokee Hall tell us about a brace game he gets ag'inst in Las
Vegas one time.

"'This deadfall--this brace I'm mentionin',' says Cherokee, 'is over on
the Plaza. Of course, I calls this crooked game a "brace" in speakin'
tharof to you-all sports who ain't really gamblers none. That's to be
p'lite. But between us, among a'credited kyard sharps, a brace game is
allers allooded to as "the old thing." If you refers to a game of
chance as "the old thing," they knows at once that every chance is
'liminated an' said deevice rigged for murder.'

"'That's splendid, Cherokee,' says Faro Nell, from her lookout's roost
by his shoulder; 'give 'em a lecture on the perils of gamblin' with
strangers.'

"Thar's no game goin' at this epock an' Cherokee signifies his
willin'ness to become instructive.

"'Not that I'm no beacon, neither,' says Cherokee, 'on the rocky
wreck-sown shores of sport; an' not that I ever resorts to onderhand
an' doobious deals myse'f; still, I'm cap'ble of p'intin' out the
dangers. Scientists of my sort, no matter how troo an' faithful to the
p'int of honour, is bound to savey all kyard dooplicities in their
uttermost depths, or get left dead on the field of finance. Every gent
should be honest. But more than honest--speshully if he's out to buck
faro-bank or set in on casyooal games of short-kyards--every gent
should be wise. In the amoosements I mentions to be merely honest
can't be considered a complete equipment. Wherefore, while I never
makes a crooke