“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 crooked play an’ don’t pack the par’fernalia so to do, I’m plenty astoote as to how said tricks is turned.

“’Which sports has speshulties same as other folks.  Thar’s Texas Thompson, his speshulty is ridin’ a hoss; while Peets’s speshulty is shootin’ a derringer, Colonel Sterett’s is pol’tics, Enright’s is jestice, Dave’s is bein’ married, Jack Moore’s is upholdin’ law an’ order, Boggs’s is bein’ sooperstitious, Missis Rucker’s is composin’ bakin’ powder biscuits, an’ Huggins’s is strong drink.’

“‘Whatever is my speshulty, Cherokee?’ asks Faro Nell, who’s as immersed as the rest in these settin’s forth; ’what do you-all reckon now is my speshulty?’

“‘Bein’ the loveliest of your sex,’ says Cherokee, a heap emphatic, an’ on that p’int we-all strings our game with his.

“‘That puts the ambrosia on me,’ says Faro Nell, blushin’ with pleasure, an’ she calls to Black Jack.

“‘As I observes,’ goes on Cherokee, ’every sport has his speshulty.  Thar’s Casino Joe; his is that he can “tell the last four.”  Nacherally, bein’ thus gifted, a game of casino is like so much money in the bank for Joe.  Still, his gifts ain’t crooked, they’re genius; Joe’s simply born able to “tell the last four.”