Cherokee Hall Plays Poker.
"Nacherally I'm not much of a sport," remarked the Old Cattleman, as he laid down a paper which told a Monte Carlo story of a fortune lost and won."Which I'm not remorseless enough to be a cleanstrain gambler.Of course, a kyard sharp can make benevolences an' lavish dust on the needy on the side, but when it gets to a game for money, he can't afford no ruthfulness that a-way, tryin' not to hurt the sore people.He must play his system through, an' with no more conscience than cows, no matter who's run down in the stampede."For which causes, bein' plumb tender an' sympathetic, I'm shore no good with kyards; an' whenever I dallies tharwith, it is onder the head of amoosements."Do I regyard gamblin' as immoral? No; I don't reckon none now I do.This bein' what you--all church sharps calls moral is somewhat a matter of health, an' likewise the way you feels.Sick folks usual is a heap more moral than when their health's that excellent it's tantalizin'."Speakin' of morals, Irecalls people who would scorn kyards, but who'd admire to buy a widow's steers for four dollars an' saw 'em off ag'in for forty.
They'd take four hundred dollars if some party, locoed to a degree which permits said outrage, would turn up.The right or wrong, what you calls the morality of gatherin' steers for four dollars an'
plunderin' people with 'em at forty dollars, wouldn't bother 'em a bit.Which the question with these yere wolves is simply: 'How little can I pay an' how much can I get?' An' yet, as I says, sech parties mighty likely holds themse'fs moral to a degree which is mountainous, an' wouldn't take a twist at faro-bank, or pick up a poker hand, more'n they'd mingle with t'rant'lers an' stingin'
lizards.An' some of their moral sports is so onlib'ral! I tells you, son, I've met up with 'em who's that stingy that if they owned a lake, they wouldn't give a duck a drink.
"'Gamblin' is immoral that a-way,' says these yere sports.
"An' yet I don't see no sech heinous difference between searchin' a gent for his roll with steers at forty dollars--the same standin'
you in four--an' layin for him by raisin' the ante for the limit before the draw.Mighty likely thar's a reason why one's moral an'
the other's black an' bad, but I admits onblushin'ly that the onearthin' tharof is shore too many for dim-eyed folks like me.They strikes me a heap sim'lar; only the kyard sharp goes out ag'inst chances which the steer sharp escapes complete.
"I reckons Cherokee Hall an' me discusses how wrong gamblin' is hundreds of times on leesure days; we frequent talks of it immoderate.Cherokee's views an' mine is side an' side, mostly, although, makin' his livin' turnin' kyards, of course he's more qualified to speak than me.
"'Which I shore finds nothin' wrong in farobank,' says Cherokee.
'Thar's times, however, when some sport who's locoed by bad luck, or thinks he's wronged gets diffusive with his gun.At sech epocks this device has its burdens, I concedes.But I don't perceive no immorality; none whatever.'
"Yes, now you asks the question, I does inform you a while back of this Cherokee Hall bein' prone to charity.He never is much of a talker, but in his way he's a mighty gregar'ous gent.About some things he's game as hornets, Cherokee is; but his nerve fails him when it comes to seein' other people suffer.He can stand bad luck himse'f, an' never turn a ha'r; but no one else's bad luck.
"It ain't once a week, but it's every day, when this yere gray-eyed sport is robbin' his roll for somebody who's settin' in ag'inst disaster.Fact; Cherokee's a heap weak that a-way.
"Of course, turnin' faro, Cherokee knows who has money an' who needs it; keeps tab, so to speak, on the fluctooations of the camp's finances closer'n anybody.The riches an' the poverty of Wolfville is sort o' exposin' itse'f 'round onder his nose; it's a open book to him; an' the knowledge of who's flat, or who's flush, is thrust onto him continyoous.As I says, bein' some sentimental about them hard ships of others, the information costs Cherokee hard onto a diurnal stack or two.
"'Which you're too impulsive a whole lot,' I argues onct when a profligate he's staked, an' who reports himse'f as jumpin' sideways for grub previous, goes careerin' over to the dance hall with them alms he's wrung, an' proceeds on a debauch.'You oughter not allow them ornery folks to do you.If you'd cultivate the habit of lettin'
every gent go a-foot till he can buy a hoss, you'd clean up for a heap more at the end of the week.Now this ingrate whose hand you stiffens ain't buyin' nothin' but nose-paint tharwith.'
"'Which the same plants no regrets with me,' says Cherokee, all careless an' indifferent.'If this person is sufferin' for whiskey worse'n he's sufferin' for bread, let him loose with the whiskey.
The money's his.When I gives a gent a stake, thar's nothin' held back.I don't go playin' the despot as to how he blows it.If this yere party I relieves wants whiskey an' is buyin' whiskey, Iapproves his play.If I've a weakness at all, it's for seein' folks fetterless an' free.'
"While holdin' Cherokee's views erroneous, so far as he seeks to apply 'em to paupers tankin' up on donations, still I allows it's dealin' faro which has sp'iled him; an' as you can't make no gent over new, I quits an' don't buck his notions about dispensin'
charity no more."Thar's times when this yere Cherokee Hall caroms on a gent who's high-strung that a-way, an' won't take no donations;which this yere sport may be plenty needy to the p'int of perishin', too.That's straight; thar's nachers which is that reluctant about aid, they simply dies standin' before they'll ever ask.
"Once or twice when Cherokee crosses up with one of these yere sensitif souls, an' who's in distress, he never says a word about givin' him anythin'; he turns foxy an' caps him into a little poker.
