"Nay, do not be angry with me. That is the phrase which I have heard applied to you to-night by more than one of your new acquaintances. If you return to play with them, I think you will merit the t.i.tle."
"Come, Monsieur, this is too bad: you interfere in a matter that does not concern you."
"True, it does not; but it concerns _you_, and yet--ah!"
I was about to leave this meddling youth, and hurry back to the game, when the strange melancholy tone of his voice caused me to hesitate, and remain by him a little longer.
"Well," I said, "you have not yet told me what you wished to say."
"Indeed, I have said already. I have told you not to play--that you would lose if you did. I repeat that counsel."
"True, I have lost a little, but it does not follow that fortune will be always on one side. It is rather my partner"s fault, who seems a bad player."
"Your partner, if I mistake not, is one of the best players on the river. I think I have seen that gentleman before."
"Ha! you know him them?"
"Something of him--not much, but that much I know. Do _you_ know him?"
"Never saw him before to-night."
"Nor any of the others?"
"They are all equally strangers to me."
"You are not aware, then, that you are playing with _sportsmen_?"
"No, but I am very glad to hear it. I am something of a sportsman myself--as fond of dogs, horses, and guns, as any of the three, I warrant."
"Ha! Monsieur, you misapprehend. A sportsman in your country, and a sportsman in a Mississippi steamboat, are two very distinct things.
Foxes, hares, and partridges, are the game of your sportsman.
Greenhorns and their purses are the game of gentry like these."
"The men with whom I am playing, then, are--"
"Professional gamblers--steamboat sharpers."
"Are you sure of this, Monsieur?"
"Quite sure of it. Oh! I often travel up and down to New Orleans. I have seen them all before."
"But one of them has the look of a farmer or a merchant, as I thought--a pork-merchant from Cincinnati--his talk ran that way."
"Farmer--merchant, ha! ha! ha! a farmer without acres--a merchant without trade! Monsieur, that simply-dressed old fellow is said to be the "smartest"--that is the Yankee word--the smartest sportsman in the Mississippi valley, and such are not scarce, I trow."
"After all, they are strangers to each other, and one of them is my partner--I do not see how they can--"
"Strangers to each other!" interrupted my new friend. "Since when have they become acquainted? I myself have seen the three in company, and at the same business, almost every time I have journeyed on the river.
True, they talk to each other as if they had accidentally met. That is part of their arrangement for cheating such as you."
"So you believe they have actually been cheating me?"
"Since the stakes have been raised to ten dollars they have."
"But how?"
"Oh, it is very simple. Sometimes your partner designedly played the wrong card--"
"Ha! I see now; I believe it."
"It did not need that though. Even had you had an honest partner, it would have been all the same in the end. Your opponents have a system of signals by which they can communicate to each other many facts--the sort of cards they hold,--the colour of the cards, their value, and so forth. You did not observe how they placed their fingers upon the edge of the table. _I_ did. One finger laid horizontally denoted one trump--two fingers placed in a similar manner, two trumps--three for three, and so on. A slight curving of the fingers told: how many of the trumps were honours; a certain movement of the thumbs bespoke an ace; and in this way each of your adversaries knew almost to a card what his partner had got. It needed not the third to bring about the desired result. As it was, there were seven knaves about the table--four in the cards, and three among the players."
"This is infamous!"
"True, I would have admonished you of it sooner; but, of course, I could not find an opportunity. It would have been no slight danger for me to have told you openly, and exposed the rascals. Hence, the _ruse_ I have been compelled to adopt. These are no common swindlers. Any of the three would resent the slightest imputation upon their honour. Two of them are noted duellists. Most likely I should have been called out to-morrow and shot, and you would scarce have thanked me for my "interference.""
"My dear sir, I am exceedingly grateful to you. I am convinced that what you say is true. How would you have me act?"
"Simply give up the game--let your losses go--you cannot recover them."
"But I am not disposed to be thus outraged and plundered with impunity.
I shall try another game, watch them, and--"
"No, you would be foolish to do so. I tell you, Monsieur, these men are noted duellists as well as black-legs, and possess courage. One of them, your partner, has given proof of it by having travelled over three hundred miles to fight with a gentleman who had slandered him, or rather had spoken the truth about him! He succeeded, moreover, in killing his man. I tell you, Monsieur, you can gain nothing by quarrelling with such men, except a fair chance of having a bullet through you. I know you are a stranger in our country. Be advised, then, and act as I have said. Leave them to their gains. It is late: Retire to your state-room, and think no more on what you have lost."
Whether it was the late excitement consequent upon the false alarm, or whether it was the strange development I had just listened to, aided by the cool river breeze, I know not; but the intoxication pa.s.sed away, and my brain became clear. I doubted not for a moment that the young Creole had told me the truth. His manner as well as words, connected with the circ.u.mstances that had just transpired, produced full conviction.
I felt impressed with a deep sense of grat.i.tude to him for the service he had rendered, and at such risk to himself--for even the _ruse_ he had adopted might have had an awkward ending for him, had any one seen him fire off his pistols.
Why had he acted thus? Why this interest in my affairs? Had he a.s.signed the true reason? Was it a feeling of pure chivalry that had prompted him? I had heard of just such instances of n.o.ble nature among the Creole-French of Louisiana. Was this another ill.u.s.tration of that character?
I say I was impressed with a deep sense of grat.i.tude, and resolved to follow his advice.
"I shall do as you say," I replied, "on one condition."
"Name it, Monsieur."
"That you will give me your address, so that when we arrive in New Orleans, I may have the opportunity of renewing your acquaintance, and proving to you my grat.i.tude."
"Alas, Monsieur! I have no address."
I felt embarra.s.sed. The melancholy tone in which these words were uttered was not to be mistaken; some grief pressed heavily on that young and generous heart.
It was not for me to inquire into its cause, least of all at that time; but my own secret sorrow enabled me to sympathise the more deeply with others, and I felt I stood beside one whose sky was far from serene. I felt embarra.s.sed by his answer. It left me in a delicate position to make reply. I said at length--
"Perhaps you will do me the favour to call upon me? I live at the Hotel Saint Luis."
"I shall do so with pleasure."