HOW SLIPPERY PLAYED THE GAME

“Lost ag'in!” yelled Slippery Jim,

“Never a mo'sel o’ luck in m’ life!

Yankee, you're on th’ velvet agin!”

Says Yankee: “Jim, let's play f'r a wife!

There's Bonanza Pearl, she's sweet on you;—

Fairer‘ card’ no gambler ever drew!”

Slippery Jim staked high that night,

The game was poker,— rake-in keeps ——

Yankee Pete hilarious, ready t’ fight ——

Rakin’ th’ gold-dust up in heaps.

Jim's last poke throw'd on th’ table, so;

“It's my last ounce, boys! Well, let‘ er go!”

He had staked the dance-hall — staked the bar —

Then, reckless, staked the “Wonder” mine,

Known on Bonanza near an’ far

As the lucky strike of Eighty-nine.

Jim had played it all — an’ lost! The sweat

Come when he gasps: “It's my last — bet!”

“You've got Pearl left,” grins Yankee Pete,

“Do n't funk now, Jim: make her th’ stake.”

With a howl of hate Jim was on his feet ——

But a voice rings out: “THAT BET WE'LL TAKE!”

And Bonanza Pearl steps up t’ me,

“You'll see this game played square!” says she.

Says Yank. “I stake my all‘ gainst th’ Girl.”

( Then I see th’ flame le'p in his eyes )

“An’ if I win you, Bonanza Pearl,

Your soul an’ body no man denies

B'longs t’ me!” He stacked his gold,

As a groan from Jim his agony told.

Now, Jim was a MAN. He funked no game;—

Says he: “I'll stake blood, bone an’ life,

But I'll put no woman to th’ shame

Of bein’ played‘ a chip’ in tin-horn strife!”

But Bonanza, she steps up t’ him

An’ she says: “Y’ COULDN'T LOSE ME, JIM!”

“Come,” says Bonanza, “Turn up th’ pack”;

She skinned the bunch with a laughin’ eye;

I gets close up ahind Jim's back

Ready t’ let th’ bullets fly.

Th’ two men playin’ a round‘ r so,

An’ the luck agin’ Slippery seem'd t’ go.

“Straight flush o’ di'monds — Ace at th’ head;”

In a whirlwind play Yank takes the pot.

Slippery's eyes was now blood-red ——

His lips crack'd dry — his breath comin’ hot;

The last deal ended the game, I saw

‘ Twas Yankee Pete's first play — an’ draw.

Jim's hand? cripes!‘ Twas a reg'lar prize;

Luck had turned — he had aces t’ burn!

But he sot there starin’ with bloodshot eyes,

An’ what I saw then gev’ ME quite a turn ——

F'r th’ divil's own luck was at his heel,

He'd an EXTRA CARD —‘ twas a clear MISDEAL!

I let my hand t’ th’ trigger go ——

Jim's throat gev’ a sickish kind o’ laugh;

An’ he says: “I'm dry as h — ll, so,

W'ot d'ye say to a shandy-gaff?

An’,” says Jim, “I'll hev’ a bite t’ eat;

Pearl, fetch me a sangwich o’ bread an’ meat”!

“Locoed!” yelled Yankee, quittin’ th’ game,

Handin’ over th’ stakes. But Slippery Jim

Hunchin’ up of his powerful frame

Giv’ a kind of a grin o’ hate at him.

“D —— n y'r gold!” he says, “Slippery Jim to-night

Will begin t’ live like a man born white!”

Now, perhaps you'd say the game war n't square ——

An’ some might call it a bunko trick;

But if you loved a ga'l an’ she stood there,

Would n't y’ swap souls with old Nick

Rather'n let her go t’ Yankee Pete

An’ play her game on Bonanza street?