“A shell-game!” Pierce Phillips halted in his tracks and stared incredulously, then he smiled.  “A shell-game, running wide open on the main street of the town!” This was the frontier, the very edge of things.  With an odd sense of unreality he felt the world turn back ten years.  He had seen shell-games at circuses and fairgrounds when he was much younger, but he supposed they had long since been abandoned in favor of more ingenious and less discreditable methods of robbery.  Evidently, however, there were some gulls left, for this device appeared to be well patronized.  Still doubting the evidence of his ears, he joined the group.

“The gentleman wins and the gambler loses!” droned the dealer as he paid a bet.  “Now then, we’re off for another journey.  Who’ll ride with me this time?”

Phillips was amazed that any one could be so simple-minded as to squander his money upon such a notoriously unprofitable form of entertainment.  Nevertheless, men were playing, and they did not seem to suspect that the persons whom the dealer occasionally paid were his confederates.

The operator maintained an incessant monologue.  At the moment of Pierce’s arrival he was directing it at an ox-eyed individual, evidently selected to be the next victim.  The fellow was stupid, nevertheless he exercised some caution at first.  He won a few dollars, then he lost a few, but, alas! the gambling fever mounted in him and greed finally overcame his hesitation.  With an eager gesture he chose a shell and Phillips felt a glow of satisfaction at the realization that the man had once more guessed aright.  Drawing forth a wallet, the fellow laid it on the table.

“I’ll bet the lump,” he cried.

The dealer hesitated.  “How much you got in that alligator valise?”

“Two hundred dollars.”

“Two hundred berries on one bush!” The proprietor of the game was incredulous.  “Boys, he aims to leave me cleaner than a snow-bird.”  Seizing the walnut-shell between his thumb and forefinger, he turned it over, but instead of exposing the elusive pellet he managed, by an almost imperceptible forward movement, to roll it out from under its hiding-place and to conceal it between his third and fourth fingers.  The stranger was surprised, dumfounded, at sight of the empty shell.  He looked on open-mouthed while his wallet was looted of its contents.

“Every now and then I win a little one,” the gambler announced as he politely returned the bill-case to its owner.  He lifted another shell, and by some sleight-of-hand managed to replace the pellet upon the table, then gravely flipped a five-dollar gold piece to one of his boosters.

Phillips’s eyes were quick; from where he stood he had detected the maneuver and it left him hot with indignation.  He felt impelled to tell the victim how he had been robbed, but thought better of the impulse and assured himself that this was none of his affair.  For perhaps ten minutes he looked on while the sheep-shearing proceeded.