CHAPTER III.

How Faro Nell Dealt Bank.

"Riches," remarked the Old Cattleman, "riches says you! Neither
you-all nor any other gent is competent to state whether in the
footure he amasses wealth or not. The question is far beyond the
throw of your rope."

My friend's tone breathed a note of strong contradiction while his
glance was the glance of experience. I had said that I carried no
hope of becoming rich; that the members of my tribe were born with
their hands open and had such hold of money as a riddle has of water.
It was this which moved him to expostulatory denial.

"This matter of wealth, that a-way," he continued, "is a mighty sight
a question of luck. Shore, a gent has to have capacity to grasp a
chance an' savey sufficient to get his chips down right. But this
chance, an' whether it offers itse'f to any specific sport, is
frequent accident an' its comin' or failure to come depends on
conditions over which the party about to be enriched ain't got no
control. That's straight, son! You backtrack any fortune to its
beginning an some'ers along the trail or at the farthest end you'll
come up with the fact that it took a accident or two, what we-all
darkened mortals calls 'luck,' to make good the play. It's like
gettin' shot gettin' rich is; all you has to do is be present
personal at the time, an' the bullet does the rest.

"You distrusts these doctrines. You shore won't if you sets down
hard an' thinks. Suppose twenty gents has made a surround an' is
huntin' a b'ar. Only one is goin' to down him. An' in his clumsy
blunderin' the b'ar is goin' to select his execootioner himse'f.
That's a fact; the party who downs the b'ar, final, ain't goin' to
pick the b'ar out; the b'ar's goin' to pick him out. An' it's the
same about wealth; one gent gets the b'ar an' the other nineteen--an'
they're as cunnin' an' industr'ous as the lucky party--don't get
nothing--don't even get a shot. I repeats tharfore, that you-all
settin' yere this evenin', firin' off aimless observations, don't
know whether you'll quit rich or not."

At the close of his dissertation, my talkative companion puffed a
cloud which seemed to hang above his venerable head in a fashion of
heavy blue approval. I paused as one impressed by the utter wisdom
of the old gentleman. Then I took another tack.

"Speaking of wealth," I said, "tell me concerning the largest money
you ever knew to be won or lost at faro--tell me a gambling story