Fifteen Western Tales, March 1954 — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘THE GAMBLER| STAKES HIS LIFE By LAWRENCE JONES ie GAMBLER made friends, of course. But he made enemies; too. One of these enemies once accosted Gambling Bill on a stagecoach. -“You Gamblin’ Bill Thornton?” “T am, sir, and at your pleasure.” The man pulled out a knife. California sunlight glistened on the long blade. “You fleeced my brother out of his dust, man. I say you’re crooked.” “Don’t fight in here,” a woman pleaded. ~ “Tf-you want to fight, go outside—don’t en- danger our lives!” “Stop the stage, driver,” Gambling Bill hollered. The driver skidded his four horses to a stop, brake slapping down. Gambling Bill and the irate miner tumbled from the stage. The miner planted the knife in between ’ two of Gambling Bill’s ribs. Gambling Bill planted a pistol ball in the miner’s shoulder. The fight left the miner. They loaded him on the stage and somebody pulled the knife out of Gambling Bill. “He takes little matters rather seriously, the gambler said. Despite his apparent disregard for his wound, Gambling Bill had a tough time with the knife wound—infection set in and almost claimed his life. But within a few months he was back at his old shell game again. Grinning, smiling, bowing—always the gent- leman, always the well-dressed, courteous man of the world. Sometimes he felt sorry for his 10 » »”? *“custom- * trouble. ers.” After winning the poke of some man he would hand back his dust with the ex- traction of a promise that the victim would never gamble again. “You can’t beat a professional gambler, he would admonish. “If these games lost — us money, we would not be operating them. Occasionally a sucker will win more than he loses, but this is the exception—not the rule. Never gamble, son.” Once he had his table set up biong a street of a gold-mad town. He won two yokes of oxen from a man. Then, seeing the man’s wife in tears, he gave back the oxen, first extracting the promise that the man would never again gamble. The couple rolled away, oxen back in their possession. And the dark eyes of Gambling. Bill Thornton followed them. “‘A wonderful woman,” he said, “but a» weak man. Well, I made them happy.” He turned to a miner. “Mister, six ounces of dust against one ounce of your dust that you can’t name the shell that hides the pea.” ” Again, he was a gambler. “There’s a big’ strike over across the mountains in Nevady,” a miner said. ‘“Car- son Valley way. Lots of gold, gamblin’ man.” So, over the Sierras went Gambling Bill Thornton. Up the west slope, over Donner Pass, down into Nevada. There he ran into There they put him in a wagon, ran the wagon under an oak, and there they hanged him. > EORMIGLOO KS a(E©