Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 3 — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

410 table. Chu Fan, the Chinese boss was in. Harve Moss, foreman of the cannery com- pany’s pile-driver crew was in. _Dominigo, a Filipino was in. Besides these, there was a Chinese slimer, and a Japanese lacquerer. The players scraped their chairs a bit more closely to- gether, and Tumtum Teller was in. There were no poker-checks in use. They were playing with real money. Now and then a player would shove a “ plaplod ” to the center of the table, take out the . change in money. the gold. ~ All day the game continued, fortune now Swinging to Katimura, now to Moss, then to Chu Fan. Once or twice the jade ap- peared to be edging toward Tumtum. But she was merely coquetting, never serious. When the flunky thrust ‘his head in at the salon door to bawi: ‘“‘ Last call to come and get it,” Tumtum was eight hundred . dollars to the bad. After supper the game was resumed. Plaplods were as good as Tumtum won back a hundred. At mid-. night, when by agreement they conctuded the session with a round of Jack-pots. Chu Fan checked out with a killmg. Tumtum had lost twelve hundred dollars. . Harve Moss had lost two hundred. Katimura, the smart Jap, had iost six hundred. Chu Fan’s countenance, when he counted up his winnings, was as unmoved as the graven image of his votive joss. The face of Tumtum Teller, a bit more animated, WaS as serene as that of the Celestial. Harve Moss drew Tumtum te one side as they were walking down the deck toward Telier’s statercom. “Look, Tumtum,” said Moss, “ you hain’t no more poker-player than a jack- rabbit. I don’t want to see no Chinks and Japs unbelt a white man. poker-player. You better sheer off. “Why, Tumtum, when you do get a hand, your eyes bung, your neck gets red, and everybody drops out. I done it my- self. You'd better sheer off.” Tumtum Teller merely grinned. “Don’t you go chafing your hawser, Harve,” assured Tumtum. “ Obliged for the hint, though, my neck getting red and so forth. But don’t you worry about me — You hain'’t a. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. losing out in that game this stage of the moon. If you knew what I know— “Why, Harve, all that loose poker money is mine just like I had it in the bank. You watch to-morrow. Them slant eyes will think they’s a shark got into their spiller of fish. “You the one better keep out, Harve. I'd rather you kept on working for the Hen- dricks Company a year or so instead of for me. You better keep out.” Mr. Moss shook his head resignedly, re- tired to his stateroom. No use arguing with - a buil-head lke Tumtum Teller. weat on. Tumtum, heeding the hint passed by Mr. Moss, had dug into his ditty-bag, got out a flannel shirt with a high collar. As visible sign, however, that he had no mterest in any of the soft amenities of personal appear- anoe, he still wore the atrocious, fish-scale armored, tarpaulin trousers. As Tumtum took his seat, he turned up the collar of his shirt high about his ears. Then, when he palmed his five cards in the hollow of his right hand, cautiously skinned down the corners, he closed one eye entirely squinted the other to the merest shit lest their starting betray the worth and quality of his draw. Back and forth the luck seesawed. Tumn- tum won back the greater part of his jesses, lost them again with a hundred dollars added. Now and then, when the game began to drag, by common consent the players would take an hour off, walk .the decks for a sniff of fresh air, Then at it again. Tumtum, because luck had held him- so long at teasing arm’s-length began to doubt. Twice when he had returned to the game he had walked completely around his chair before seating himself. In the privacy of his stateroom, surreptitiousiy he had put his right shoe upon the jeft foot, the left upon the right. ‘And still he lost. Rather, he didn’t wim. There was something decidedly wrong with the signs. Could it be that Lillian, after the reputed perverse mamer of women, hadnt meant what she had said, that he did have a GOR GDOO : SS {GOUT