Desmond studied the man who was giving him this unsolicited information, and he concluded that the nice-looking man was sharp number two; he was up to this sort of business and perceived the whole game.

“Yes, he appears like a good, honest fellow,” said Desmond.

“Honest? why, you could trust him with all you had in the world.”

“Yes, he looks that.”

“He is one of the kindest-hearted fellows in the world.  I tell you if you get into trouble he is the man to aid you.  He is the best pistol shot and rifle shot in the land.  Why, that fellow has fought off a whole tribe of Indians.  The redskins fear him as a white man fears the devil, and his father is one of the richest men out in this section, as I told you.”

“Yes.  He don’t look like a millionaire’s son.”

“No, but he is all the same, and he appears to have taken a great fancy to you.  I was watching him while he talked to you; I tell you no one will interfere with you anywhere in this land if they know that he is your friend.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes.  He is a splendid fellow.”

The man who had volunteered all this information walked into a forward car, and a few moments later the senator’s son, so-called, returned, and as frequently occurs in far Western trains, the particular car in which Desmond was riding was deserted.  Our hero and the countryman had the car all to themselves, and after a little further talk the senator’s son said: 

“I wish some greeny would come in here, we’d have some fun.”

“How?”

“I’ll tell you, I am a regular juggler; I know all the tricks of gamblers and I’d fool a fellow.”

“Do you know all the tricks of gamblers?”

“Yes, and sometimes I beat the game just for fun.  You see I am down on gamblers, I just like to beat them.  Generally there are one or two of those rascals on this train, but they know me; I don’t get a chance at them any more, so I sometimes amuse myself by astonishing greenhorns.  By ginger! but it’s funny I’ve never been in New York; I am half a mind to go right on to the great city with you.”

“Yes, come along,” said Desmond, a merry twinkle in his eyes.

CHAPTER VIII.

Playing to catch A Weasel—­A sharp’s
scholar—­opening up of the game—­two
big hands—­A crisis.

“I can’t go, but I’d like to; but you give me your address, and some day you will see me in York.  I feel like the man who said, ’See Venice and die;’ I want to see New York.  Say, they tell me there are a great many sharpers in that wonderful city.”

“Yes, it’s full of them.”

“Well, wouldn’t I have fun beating those fellows, especially on the race track, eh?  They tell me these sharps are as thick as mosquitoes in August down on the race tracks.”