CHAPTER I.

GAMBLING IN THE NEW WORLD.

It may be questioned whether any other country on the globe affords a more striking illustration of the prevalence and the power of the gambling mania than does the great Republic of the North American Continent. Nor are the reasons far to seek. Hereditary titles of nobility are not recognized by the American constitution. In the general scramble for position and power, wealth counts for more in the United States than in any other land under the blue vaulted dome of Heaven.

At the same time it should not be supposed that an insane desire to accumulate fortunes lies at the root of American gaming. The hard, practical common sense of the average Yankee convinces him that he is not likely to win a competence at the green cloth. A large majority of American gamesters (i. e., local, as distinguished from professional) gamble because their brains are in a constant whirl of excitement. Rest has no charms for them; they seek recreation in the substitution of one form of mental stimulant for another. The “operator” on the exchange, whose days are spent in watching the rise and fall of commodities purely speculative, finds the ordinary paths of life too quiet, too monotonous, to elicit more than a passing thought. From the moment when he leaves “the floor” until he returns to it next day, his brain is in a mad whirl of excitement. What more natural than that he should seek relief for an overtaxed mind through exchanging one avenue of activity for another?

The application of these remarks, however, cannot be confined to “stock-jobbers” and manipulators of “corners.” The same spirit pervades all classes of society. This accursed thirst for gold—sacra auri fames—enters every American home, as the serpent insinuated his wiles into the Garden of Eden, and destroys at once domestic happiness and individual peace. The mechanic stakes and loses his week’s wages; the clerk risks his month’s salary; the husband and father ventures upon the turn of a card the money which should be devoted to the support of wife and children. Yet, as has been said, this reckless improvidence cannot be ascribed solely to a hope of acquiring rapid gains. The feeling of dissatisfaction with his condition which lurks in the breast of the average American, leads him, insensibly to himself, into all sorts of rash excesses, among which is gambling at cards.

American gambling, however, presents some distinctively characteristic features. In the first place it is mainly conducted on the floor of the exchange, rather than in public gaming rooms. The Stock and Produce Exchanges are sapping the very vitals of the country’s morality. For “stakes” are substituted “margins;” for “winnings” read “profits;” while the designation of “players” is changed into the more euphonious appellation of “speculators.” With these changes in nomenclature, the game is the same in principle; the same in the method of its manipulation; the same in its demoralizing results. Even “suckers” are known, but they are termed “lambs.”

Professional gamblers have not been slow to recognize this fact, nor have they scrupled to avail themselves of it. From this circumstance has sprung into existence the “bucket shops,” those preparatory schools for the penitentiary in which the young, the poor and the unsophisticated are incited to avarice, duplicity, embezzlement and actual theft. The school boy, the artisan and the bootblack read or hear of colossal fortunes, accumulated on the “floors” of commercial exchanges. To operate a “corner” is beyond their means; but the conviction is not slow in forcing itself upon their minds that they may at least follow humbly in the footsteps of men whose faults the public is willing to condone in view of their success. Herein lies the chief danger—to the perpetuity of the Nation—in those marble halls wherein gambling is conducted upon a scale in comparison with which that at Monaco and Monte Carlo is dwarfed into insignificance, and where one man rides triumphantly into wealth and power upon a sea whose bottom is strewn with wrecks.

Yet another form of gambling which prevails in the United States more than in any other civilized nation on the globe is the mania for lottery speculation and particularly for “policy playing,” by which latter term—as is elsewhere more fully explained—is meant betting on the particular numbers which will win a prize at any given drawing. These forms of gaming are confined to neither sex, nor do they know the limitation of age, occupation or social rank. The official list of drawings is scanned with equal solicitude by the leaders of society and the outcasts of the slums; by the reckless young “blood,” who “takes a flyer” by day and leads the german at night and by the decrepteddecrepted old negro, who risks his last dime upon “4-11-44;” by the veteran and the school-boy, by the philosopher and the proletaire. That the general sentiment of the country as voiced by the exponents of public opinion has uniformly and unhesitatingly condemned the practice is unquestionable. While the vice is peculiarly American, in the number and character of its devotees, it is totally un-American in so far as the moral countenance of the Nation is concerned. Minor principalities of Europe have sought to replenish treasuries drained by the extravagance or debauchery of their rulers through the institution and legal authorization of lottery schemes, whose world-wide advertisement might draw to the country English pounds, French Napoleons and American Eagles. It has remained, however, for the State of Louisiana to bring disgrace upon the Republic by accepting, through her law-makers, a direct pecuniary bribe to consummate her public shame. Even the new State of North Dakota with its farmers crying for seed wheat showed the moral courage to resist the fastening into its vitals of the delicate, but deadly tendrils of the octopus which saps the morals of the commonwealth which tolerates its embrace as does its physical prototype the very life blood of the individual victim on which it fastens its fangs. Louisiana prides itself on its cognomen of the “Pelican” State. What a misnomer! While the pelican robs her breast to minister to her young, her mistaken namesake robs her own young to feed the vulture which first whets its appetite on her own offspring and later gorges its distended veins and arteries on the very vital fluid of other States and Territories. Out upon the indifference to public morals which recognizes, in this matter, a mere question of sectional lines. Shame upon the venality which would bring a nation into disrepute before the whole world in order that a purchasable Syndicate of corrupt law-makers might be enriched. The remedy for such a state of public morals is not easy to find. It is idle for any given community to insist that their chosen representatives do not represent the average morals of the district which places the latter in positions of responsibility. And yet the commonwealth of Louisiana would consider its character impugned should the palpable inference be drawn. It remains to be hoped that the legislators of the future may be able to devise some method by which the escutcheon of this great State may be relieved of the shadow which just now dims its brightness. This sort of dissertation, however, is hardly in place in the present connection. Gambling on the exchange and in the bucket-shops is discussed elsewhere. The history of the Louisiana lottery, from its inception, is given in another chapter. Nevertheless in an introduction to the general subject of American gambling, it is impossible to avoid these allusions although they are, perforce, of a somewhat desultory character.

What we are particularly considering in this section of the volume, Part II, is gaming as practiced in the halls, the club room and private houses in the United States. For those who, from poverty or other causes, are unable to gratify their taste for public gambling in rooms devoted to the purpose there is a multiplicity of devices, found upon fair grounds and at various other localities at which large crowds are wont to gather, which offer to the casual gamester an opportunity for gratifying his thirst for excitement at an expense sometimes trifling and sometimes costly.

At the gaming houses proper, the preference is given to what are known as “banking games.” By this term is meant games where the deal never passes from hand to hand, and where all players bet against one central fund, known as the “bank,” which is owned and operated by the proprietors of the resort. Of this class of games, faro, roulette and rouge et noir, are by far the most popular, the star of the former being decidedly in the ascendant. Another game of this description which holds a high place in public favor is keno (a full explanation of which may be found in Chapter IV) the popularity of which is due, primarily, to the small capital necessary to play, and, secondarily, to the belief that the legitimate percentage in favor of the bank is so great that the temptation to fraud is reduced to a minimum, if not an infinitesimal quantity.

Next to the banking games in the estimation of the bettors comes poker, both “draw” and “stud.” The former is played according to recognized rules, but the “house” exacts a percentage from the holders of certain winning hands. This percentage is technically known as the “rake-off,” and insures the proprietors of the establishment a handsome royalty on all winnings. In “stud” poker the dealer always represents the “house.” The players are never permitted to handle the cards. To quote Tennyson’s poem of The Brook, the “man in the chair might say—

In the public gambling rooms, also, many of the gaming devices seen upon fair and circus grounds are to be found, notably the wheel of fortune. These various contrivances are fully explained in subsequent chapters.

Public American gaming resorts are ordinarily classified under two general headings—“square” and “brace.” Under the former caption are included those where the “occasional player” is supposed to enjoy an opportunity of laying a wager with some possible chance of winning. “Brace” games, as the term is understood among the fraternity, are veritable “hells,” into which a victim is enticed for purposes of downright robbery under the pretence of a game of “chance.” The dupe who enters a room of this character, seals his own doom by the mere fact of entrance. The proprietors, from that moment, mark him as their own peculiar prey. If he has but little cash, he is promptly and incontinently relieved of it. If he is a “pigeon” whose future “plucking” promises a rich harvest, his mentors are merciful, and he is encouraged to “call again.” “Luck” appears variable, although, as a matter of fact, in a “brace” house—otherwise yclept a “skin game”—“luck” is dependent solely upon the will of the dealer.

In regard to American gambling houses generally, it may be remarked that there exists a popular misapprehension as to the relative proportion of “square” and “brace” resorts. It is unquestionably of no small value to any resort that it should enjoy the reputation of being “square,” and it cannot be denied that there are those where, under ordinary circumstances, the “bank” contents itself with its legitimate (?) percentage. Yet, as a matter of fact, it may be doubted whether there is a “square” hell (what a contradiction in terms!) in the country which has not conveniently at hand and ready for use, all the fraudulent contrivances so dear to the heart of the “brace” dealer. Not always are they brought into requisition, but, like the reserves of an army, are always at hand, and always ready to be brought into action.

The fact that the statutes of nearly every State prohibit gambling, necessitates a sort of sub-rosa activity. At Monaco, Baden-Baden and Monte Carlo gaming is carried on, not only under the very eyes, but even under the sanction and patronage of the government. Not so in the United States. The genius of American institutions has stamped upon gambling the seal of its statutory condemnation. Two elements have combined, incidentally, against any action which would enforce the will of the people.people. The first is the half-heartedness of the war waged against gambling by municipal authorities; the second is the assistance which proprietors receive from outside confederates. The latter “goes without saying.” Every habitue of a gaming house knows that there are “cappers.” Equally thorough is the knowledge enjoyed by every proprietor that some sort of satisfactory arrangement can be made with the municipal authorities. What is the result? Each of the operating causes produces its own effects. Guests at the hotels of every large town are persecuted by solicitations to gamble, while the Mayor and Common Council of the average city indulge in raids at a set time, for the simple reason that the officers of the law exact and receive a percentage on the profits of every game which they tolerate.

Outside of “banking” games, however, there is one which is almost as peculiarly American as is base ball. “Poker” seems to be, for some unexplainable reason, looming up as a National pastime. Some reference has already been made to gambling at the fashionable club house and in the family circle. Under such circumstances poker is the game par excellence. Stakes ordinarily run high, no matter how small the introductory ante may be. As a matter of fact there is scarcely a club house in any prominent commercial center of the Union in which there is not an apartment curtained from the vulgar gaze, where play is not carried on for high stakes. And these very gentlemen who play a friendly game rarely suspect that into their midst there is sometimes introduced a professional, who not only wins a handsome stake for himself, but also assists in recouping losses sustained by the gentlemen who introduced him. This statement may seem incredibly absurd upon its face, yet the author knows whereof he speaks.

There is still another distinctive feature of American gambling which deserves notice. Men who know that they cannot be admitted as members of any recognized club form an association by themselves, also known as clubs, which are organized for gambling purposes, pure and simple. Associations of this character are primarily conducted for the convenience of players, yet the keeper of the room rarely fails to “earn a profit” through selling liquid refreshments and the manipulation of the “rake-off,” which is conducted in a manner similar to that followed in public houses.

The interference by the municipal authorities with the “hells” is regarded by the proprietors as a contingency too remote to be worth seriously considering. There are various reasons for the excellent understanding which usually exists between the gamblers and the “powers that be.” Political influence sometimes lies at the bottom of the friendliness. It is also a sad truth that too often the explanation is to be found in actual venality on the one hand and corruption on the other. Yet there is one circumstance which should not be lost sight of. The “fraternity” not infrequently renders valuable assistance to the officers of the law by disclosing the habits, haunts, and sometimes the whereabouts of criminals who are being sought for by the authorities. Not that they are anxious to serve the ends of justice, but that they look upon the rendering of such assistance in the light of a quid pro quo for the “protection,” otherwise immunity, which they enjoy. The reader who will thoughtfully peruse chapter X of this part of the book will gather much interesting information on this point which will afford him food for no little serious reflection.

Another pronounced feature of American gaming is the number of itinerant gamblers who wander about the country, infesting railway trains and steamboats, invading the summer resorts, and coming down upon country towns after the manner of a wolf upon the sheep fold. These peripatetic sporting men are adepts at all card games and thoroughly versed in every fraudulent device. They combine the arts of the card sharp and the confidence man. For them honor is a by-word and virtue a mockery. They are destitute alike of conscience and of pity, and ill fares the luckless wight who falls a victim to their blandishments.

Hitherto, except in a few comparatively isolated localities, legislation has proved powerless to repress gambling in the United States. The “Johnson law,” so called from the name of its author, the Hon. Charles P. Johnson, of Missouri, making gambling a felony, operated to check it in that State and brought about a positive hegira of the men who had been thriving upon the gullibility of a too confiding public. Similar results have followed its adoption and enforcement in other States. But it is idle to encumber the statute book of any commonwealth with laws whose enforcement is not demanded by public sentiment. The vice of gaming, like its twin relic of barbarism, drunkenness, will be suppressed only when an outraged nation rises in its righteous wrath and forever stamps out of existence the viper which has buried its fangs deep in the very vitals of the body politic.

The general belief that cards were invented in the fourteenth century to amuse the imbecile Charles VI. of France is one of those popular errors which, despite the proofs arrayed against them by modern research, seem destined to be perpetual truth, though booted and spurred, seldom overtakes a plausible historical fable if the latter has the advantage of a start of three or four centuries, and therefore the idea that cards were originated by Gringonneur, a Parisian portrait painter, to tickle the fancy of a royal idiot, will probably continue to exist in the public mind for centuries to come. The public journals, in their answers to correspondents, reiterate the same old stereotyped tale, which seems destined to have an immortal lease of life.

The truth, however, is that cards, like chess, originated in the Orient, and were first introduced into Southern Europe by gypsies toward the close of the thirteenth century. How long they had been in use in the East is a matter of conjecture, pure and simple, but there is ground for the belief that they are as old as the Pyramids. This is a question for archaeologists to settle, and the answer to it does not fall within the scope of the present work. It is certain that they rapidly grew in public favor. During the seventeenth century the passion for card-playing became a veritable mania among the nobility and gentry, royalty itself setting the example. Louis XIV., in whom were united the incongruous characteristics of a gambler and a miser played nearly until the day of his death. During the regency, and throughout the dissolute reign of Louis XV., under the influence of Madame de Pompadour and the infamous Dubarry, the court gambled from morning till night and from night till morning, while the nation followed suit. So in England, substantially the same state of affairs existed, Charles II., with his courtiers and favorites, setting the fashion. In a word, all Europe was card-mad.

America’s turn came later. With prosperity came a taste for sumptous amusements—the legitimate offspring of wealth and leisure—and it may be questioned whether there is any country in the world where card-playing is so universal, or where so much money is staked upon the issues as in the United States.

The origin of the game of faro, like that of most games of cards, is obscure. There is a tradition that it emanated from the shores of the Nile, and that its antiquity is as venerable as that of the pyramids. Perhaps this rather fanciful theory has grown in favor from the fact that its name is sometimes spelled “pharo,” the name of the founder of the great Egyptian dynasty, whose head is said, in ancient times, to have been depicted upon one of the cards. Be this as it may, it is certain that centuries ago it was popular among the gamesters of France and other countries of Europe, whence it crossed the channel to the British isles and later was brought across the Atlantic to America. In the United States, it is a game par excellence at every gambling establishment, being at once the most absorbingly fascinating to players and the most profitable to the bank. Across the green cloth which separates the former from the latter, fortunes are hourly lost and won. The monotonous, droning call of the dealer, falling upon the ears of players, whose interest is breathless in its intensity, has proved to thousands the knell of doom to wealth, honor, integrity, and happiness. With its allurement of excitement and its tempting bait of gain, it woos its votaries to shipwreck equally certain and no less terrible than that which befell the mariner of old, whose charmed senses drank in the intoxicating music of the siren’s song. Faro has been happily likened to the “tiger,” which, crafty, treacherous, cruel and relentless, hides under cover waiting, with impatient eagerness, for the moment when it may bury its velvet covered claws within the vitals of its unsuspecting victim and slake its fiery, unquenchable thirst with his life blood.

The principles of the game as fairly played to-day do not materially differ from those laid down by Hoyle a hundred years ago. Be it understood, however, that this remark applies to modern faro, as played in the “hells” of this year of grace, only in the abstract. The principles (sic) upon which it is practically conducted by the dealers of to-day are of a sort calculated to astound that eminent authority on the doctrine of chances. In order, however, that the reader may thoroughly comprehend to how great an extent the player is at the mercy of the banker, it will be necessary to explain first the method of legitimate playing (i. e., if any gambling can be properly called legitimate) and then some of the devices whereby the dealer may transform his naturally overwhelming chances of winning to a practical certainty.

As preparatory to a discussion of the first branch of the subject, it may be remarked that faro is pre-eminently a game of chance. Even when played with absolute fairness, success or failure, fortune or misfortune, depend—not upon the skill of the player, but upon the caprice of blind chance. It is true that mathematical science has attempted to reduce this chance to some sort of law, and has formulated a theory as to the inherent probability or improbability of certain events happening or failing to happen, and there are devotees of faro who play upon what they believe—with a faith which approaches the sublime—to be an infallible “system.” But the doctrine of chance is, after all, but an approximation to accuracy, and the only certainty about any system, however cunningly devised, is the certainty that at the supreme moment it will prove a delusion and a snare.

But, to return to the method of playing: Any number of persons may participate in the game, which requires a full pack of fifty-two cards. The dealer acts as “banker,” and may, at his discretion, limit the sums to be played for, according to the amount of his capital. At public games, this functionary, assisted by one or more persons known as “lookers-out,” whose duty it is to watch the table, the players and the bets, with a view to seeing that the bank’s winnings are promptly gathered in, and that the interests of “the house” are properly guarded. In order to facilitate the making of bets, players purchase checks, usually made of ivory or bone or composition, though sometimes of paste-board, from the banker, who redeems them at the option of the holder. Their value is denoted either by their color, or figures stamped upon them. The banker usually limits the sums that may be bet in accordance with his capital, and the limit may be of two kinds, known as the plain and the running limit. The plain limit is usually twice as much for double, treble or quadruple cards as for single cards. That is to say, if a player may bet fifty dollars on either or all of the latter, he may bet $100 on all or any of the double. The running limit is any sum named and its multiple of four. To illustrate, the running limit may be 50 and 200; in that case, the player may bet fifty dollars, and if he wins, may suffer the original stake and its increase (which would amount to $100) to be where it is or move it to another place, where he may win another $100, thus giving him with his first stake $200, which is the limit. This is known as parleeing a bet, and if the first bet is five, the second will be ten, the third twenty, the fourth forty, and so on. Almost all bankers will allow a player to “parlee,” as the percentage is largely in favor of the bank.

Each banker is provided with a “board” about three by one and one-half feet in dimensions, which is placed on a table about four by two and one-half feet. This “board” is covered with green cloth, on which one suit of thirteen cards of the ordinary pack are portrayed in the order shown in the foregoing illustration.

In the centre of the cut given above, the arrangement of the cards in the “lay-out” is shown. The outer line of the parallelogram represents the table. Letter “G” indicates the seat of the dealer; “I” that of the “lookout;” “F” that part of the table on which the “case keeper” (the use of which will be explained later) is placed; and “H” shows where sits that important functionary who operates the “case keeper.” The players sit or stand all around the table. “A” represents the dealing box, and “B” and “C” the two piles into which the cards are divided as they issue from the box. “D” shows the “check-rack,” or the apparatus for holding the “checks,” and “E” shows the position of the money drawer.

The ace, deuce, queen and king are called the big square; the deuce, tray, queen and jack the second square, and so on; the six, seven and eight are called the pot. The players select their cards upon which they wish to bet, and lay upon them their checks.

All preliminaries being settled, before any bets are made the dealer shuffles and cuts the cards and places them face upward in a metal box, containing an aperture at the top, sufficiently large to allow the full faces of the cards to be seen. Originally, the cards while being dealt, were held in the dealer’s hands, and in Germany they are nailed to the table and torn off one by one. For many years, however, it has been the practice to deal from an uncovered metal box, a little longer than the pack, in which are placed the “pasteboards” faces upward, so that the top card is always exposed to view. Near the top of one end of this receptacle is a horizontal slit, wide enough to admit the passage of a single card, and at the bottom are four springs, which, pressing upward, automatically force the pack toward the top of the box, thus keeping one card always opposite the slit. The top card, called the “soda,” having been seen, is not used for betting, and is laid aside. The card immediately below is the banker’s card, and it wins for him all stakes placed upon it in the “lay-out,” provided it has not been “coppered,” as explained below. The next is the player’s card and wins for him in the same manner. Each pair of cards taken from the box and exposed constitute what is denominated a “turn.” It may happen, however, that the player may wish to bet that a certain card may lose. In that case he places a copper (which is provided for the purpose) upon the top of his stake. This is called “coppering,” because originally old fashioned copper cents were employed for this purpose instead of the wooden checkers.

Whenever two cards of the same denomination appear in the same “turn,” the dealer takes half the money found upon such card. This is called a “split,” and is, in effect, a percentage taken by the bank. If a player wins his bet and allows both stake and winnings to remain on the same card for another “turn,” he is said to play a paroli or parlee. At the end of a “turn” a pause is made, to permit the paying of bets already determined and the making of new ones. And the same routine is followed until the pack is exhausted, when a fresh deal is made and the process repeated. It will be seen that there are twenty-five “turns” in every deal. The dealer may close the game at the end of any deal when he may see fit. The last card remaining in the box at the end of each deal neither wins nor loses, although originally it was claimed by the dealer, who took all the money staked upon that card. The bank thus had the certainty of winning such stakes, with no possibility of loss; hence, that card came to be called “hock” or “hockelty,” which means certainty, and by that name it is known.

A player may avoid risking his stake on any particular turn by saying to the dealer, “I bar this bet for the turn”—pointing to it—in which case it can neither lose nor win, but remains barred until he says “it goes.” Again, he may reduce his stake one-half, by saying to the dealer, “one-half this bet goes,” and this, unless the order is revoked, will be understood to be his intention until the close of the deal.

When there is but one turn left in the box, the player may “call the last turn;” that is, guess the order in which the cards will appear. If he guesses correctly, he receives either two or four times the value of his stake, according to the advantage which he enjoys through the character of the turn. If the three cards are three denominations, they may come out in any one of the six different ways; if, on the other hand, two of the three cards are of the same denomination, only three arrangements are possible. Hence, in the former case, if he guess correctly, the banker pays him four times the amount of his wager; in the latter (which is technically called a “cat hop”) he wins double its value.

As has been shown, there is a multiplicity of methods of betting open to the player, but it remains to explain one of the most common, as well as fascinating, modes in vogue among the patrons of the “green cloth,” a method, too, which more than any other has been prolific of disputes. It consists of placing bets not only upon any card or cards, but upon the margin of the “lay-out.” These are called “string bets,” an explanation of which would tend rather to confuse than to enlighten the inexperienced reader.

It being of the utmost importance to both dealer and player that the cards remaining on the box should be known, an effort is made to keep an accurate record of the deal in such a way that its every phase may be seen at a glance. For this purpose a printed card, known as a “cue card,” is given to each player if he desires it, with the characters A, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, J, Q, K, arranged in a perpendicular row, “A” representing the ace, the numbers indicating the spots, and the letters “J, Q, K” standing for the court cards. As each card is dealt the player denotes the denomination on his “cue card” by placing in the proper line a zero (0) if it lose, and a straight perpendicular mark (I) if it wins, the last or “hock” card being indicated by a double dagger ([++]).

The Chances of the Game.

The following statement of the odds against winning any number of times consecutively is applicable to faro or any other game of chance. The computation is that of Mr. Hoyle, who, as an honest man, had not forecast the devices of the modern sharper.

Champions of this game, however, claim that when fairly conducted, the percentage of the bank against the player is less in faro than in any known game; and it is probable that the fact of this belief being wide spread accounts for its wonderful popularity in the United States. In fact, when fairly dealt, the only percentages in favor of the game are the “splits” and “calls.” Mr. Hoyle gives the following computation of the odds at the game.

The chances of doublets vary according to the number of similar cards remaining among those undealt. The odds against the player increase with every “turn” that is dealt.

When only eight cards are remaining, it is five to three in favor of the bank:

When only six cards, it is	2 to 1
When only four cards,	2 to 1
That the player does not win his first stake is an equal bet.
That he does not win twice following, is	3 to 1
Three times following, is	7 to 1
Four ditto, is	15 to 1
Five ditto, is	31 to 1
Six ditto, is	63 to 1

Having briefly outlined the method of playing, and shown how even when fairly played there is a very large percentage of odds in favor of the bank, it remains to point out some of the practices resorted to by those professional gamblers known as “advantage players,” “brace dealers,” etc., to take advantage of the gullible and unwary, called among the fraternity “chumps,” or by the still less euphonius term of “suckers.”

These practices may be grouped under three different heads: First, the cards themselves; second, the dealing box; and third, a system of confederates. These will be taken up in the order given.

1st. The cards themselves. The “skin gambler” never deals a game of faro without making use of cards known as “strippers,” or “humps.” These may be bought from dealers in gambling implements, or may be prepared by the gambler himself by using “trimming shears,” a tool devised for this special purpose, and costing from forty to seventy-five dollars per pair. “Strippers” are ordinary playing cards of the same size and form as the “square” ones used in dealing faro, from the edge of which a very little “strip” has been trimmed, thus making them a fraction narrower at one end than at the other. The “strip” cut off does not exceed one thirty-second part of an inch at one end and runs to a point at the other. These are used that certain cards may be reversed and known; that is, the narrow ends of some turned with the wide ends of others. Thus, the dealer may take all the cards under seven, and turn their narrow ends with the wide ends of the rest of the pack, thus greatly increasing the chances for “splits,” on which the banker wins half the stakes; moreover, the cards are used more in bunches, whereby the odds in his favor are still further increased. When the wide ends of such a pack are all together, it is difficult to detect them; but when a part only is reversed they are more easily distinguished, since if the pack be taken by opposite ends all those turned opposite ways will easily come out if pulled by the ends.

The cards just described are known as “side strippers.” Another variety, which has some advantage over these is called “end strippers,” or “rakes.” As their name implies, they are cut on the end instead of the sides, but are arranged, sanded, and used as are the others. Before making a deal, the cards are “pulled” and “run in” endwise, after which they may be shuffled any number of times without changing their relative positions. They will apparently change their positions, but owing to the manner in which they are cut and their being sanded, they adhere in pairs all through the pack. When the cards are trimmed on the side, displacement during shuffling is unavoidable; hence, the advantage of using “rakes.”

Other prepared cards are called “hollows” and “rounds.” These are cut in plates made for the purpose, and a portion of the pack is wider across the middle, and tapers a very little toward the ends. The rest of the pack is hollowed out a little in the middle and broader at the ends. Strippers of this sort are used for the same purpose as those first described, but are used by taking hold of the pack at the middle and one end instead of at both ends.

The very closest observation is necessary to detect cards prepared in either of these ways, and soft, smooth hands are necessary to use them advantageously. The advantages resulting to the skillful dealer from their use, however, are too palpable to call for further elucidation, except in connection with the explanation of fraudulent, or “fake” dealing boxes, which will be given below. Sometimes the odd spot cards, the jack and king are trimmed differently from the remainder and then reversed. They are then “run in,” an odd against an even, and can be told through the difference in their size. This stratagem insures, at the pleasure of the dealer, the effectual bankruptcy of the man who plays upon a “system.”

“Squares and rounds” are made in much the same way. They are cut to pull from the ends like “rakes.”“rakes.” Like “hollows and rounds” they can be turned around without producing any effect upon them; and, like both, when properly “sanded” (which process is explained below), they can be shuffled without changing their relative positions. They are used in the same way as common “strippers.”

Another process to which the cards of the “skin” faro gambler are subjected is the preparation of them in such a way that they will adhere together. This is accomplished by rubbing them, sometimes with sandpaper, sometimes with rosin and glass, and sometimes with pumice stone. If, however, the surface be too much scratched, the abrasion will become visible when the cards are held up to the light. To accomplish the result desired most effectually, and at the same time with the least possible risk of detection, a powder composed of fish bone and rosin is sprinkled over them. When it is remembered that the dealing cards are extremely thin and smooth, the ease with which this device can be carried into successful operation can be imagined. Sometimes the backs of certain cards are roughened and the faces of others; the adhesion is then rendered very close and the added thickness so slight as absolutely to defy detection. To facilitate the use of cards thus prepared, a special dealing box, known as the “sand tell” box, has been devised, a description of which may be found in its proper place.

Still another resource, however, remains to the dealer of a “fake” game. He marks his cards along the edges on the faces, by which simple but effective plan he can always tell, with approximate accuracy, the denomination of any card below the top. This is accomplished by putting dots on the edges and it is absolutely essential to the successful operation of most of the “faked” boxes described below. Similar dots may be seen along the left hand edge of the card shown in the accompanying cut of the dealing box.

2nd. The Dealing Box.—When the dealing box was first introduced, more than half a century ago, it was claimed in its behalf that it insured absolute protection against fraud on the part of either dealer or players. Practically, as years have passed and new features have been engrafted upon it, it has become the most effective agency for unlimited fraud that the most nefarious dealer could desire. Indeed it may be questioned whether the original object of its introduction was not to render more easy the task of completely stripping every man who should venture to play against the bank. Hoyle points out that the odds, even in legitimate play are always in favor of the banker, and it seems hardly probable that he would himself suggest an innovation which might in any degree lessen his chances. The first boxes were made of brass, a very little larger than the pack, and about half an inch wider, with one side left open for the admission of the pack. The side opposite had an opening, close to the top, large enough to allow a single card to slip out, and in the top of the case was another of sufficient size to permit the insertion of the end of the finger to slip off the top card. At the bottom were springs to keep the pack constantly pressed up to the top of the box. That such a contrivance might be used with perfect fairness in dealing faro cannot be disputed. The fact remains, however, that almost every American gambling den to-day has at hand boxes which are cunningly contrived devices to facilitate the fleecing of the ignorant, to convert chance into certainty, to transform the unsuspicious player into the victim and the dealer into the harpy.

In order to have a thorough comprehension of the following description of some of the “fake” boxes now in use, it may be well that the reader understand the object sought to be gained through them. The rules of the game require that but one card shall be dealt at a time. To a dealer determined to win, it is of the utmost importance to know, before the card issues from the box, what that card is going to be. In this, he is greatly aided by the preparation of the cards as described above. Still, he needs some mechanical device through which he may put this knowledge into practical operation, either by failing to deal any certain card at a moment when its issuance from the box means loss to the bank, or by putting out a card which is sure to win for himself. To give him this advantage he uses a box so constructed that he can control its operations at will. It will thus be seen that his cards and his box supplement each other. To know the cards would avail him nothing unless he might use those which he needed; to be able to deal fraudulently would be of no possible advantage, unless he knew precisely which card to deal. Taken together, they form a combination so strong as to be impregnable to the dupe who fancies that he and his crafty opponent meet on a fair field in open, even if not honorable, combat.

At the present time, the “fraternity” generally use one of three varieties of boxes, known respectively as the “lever,” or “end squeeze movement,” the “needle movement,” and the “sand tell” box. Of these, the former is the most common, and the second the most expensive, while the third is commonly employed for a special purpose, which will be explained.explained.

The accompanying cut shows the mechanism of the “screw box,” at one time very popular with gamblers, and still used in some houses.

The front side of this box, “A,” is provided with three thin perpendicular plates, of which two are stationary, but all of which seem to be solidly joined together. Between the stationary plates “B” and “D,” whose inner surfaces are so highly polished as to reduce friction to a minimum, slides another and invisible plate, marked “C,” and which is adjustable and highly sensitive to the secret manipulation of the practiced dealer. This centre piece “C,” when properly placed and at rest, presents an upper edge a trifle above the two stationary plates, leaving an aperture so narrow that the dealer can take but one card from the box at a time.

“F” is a screw which operates a secret lever, “E C,” between the two plates “B” and “D.” This lever hangs on a pivot, and by slightly pressing the screw with the thumb the adjustable plate “C” quickly responds, and drops until its edge is even with those of the stationary plates “B” and “D,” thereby enabling the dealer to take two cards from the box at one time without observation.

Upon removing the thumb pressure from the screw “F,” the adjustable plate “C” rises to its original position.

There is a flat metal piece in the inside of the box at the bottom, which, when pushed forward, instantly and securely locks the box, preventing the discovery of its mechanism, should any of the players request permission to examine it. Such permission is always cheerfully, and usually courteously given.

Finally, inside of the box, as in all others, is a thin plate the size of the cards, which is placed in a level or horizontal position, upon which the cards rest, and which is supported by four steel springs, that force the cards up to the top of the box so that they may always be ready for dealing.

The “lever,” or “end squeeze” box—the one which is perhaps just now most in favor among “skin” gamblers—is operated on the same principle as is the “screw” box. The screw, however, is replaced by a mechanical contrivance which enables the dealer to raise the middle plate (lettered C in the illustration) by means of pressure or “squeezing” applied at the end of the box. The “lever” box also differs from the “screw” in the manner of locking the secret mechanism. In the essential principles of the “fake,” however, the two closely correspond. The underlying fraud in both consists of the manipulation of a concealed middle plate, substantially in the manner already explained.

The “needle” movement box is so called from the fact that at one end, on the inside, is a small spring, lying the thickness of three cards from the top, and having a fine point, like that of a needle, which catches on the edges of the cards. The dealer remembers which cards are round—which, as has been said, may be the odd numbers or may be those having a less number of spots than seven; the remainder of the pack is, of course, cut hollow at the ends. By the aid of the spring, the dealer is enabled to tell whether the first card is round or hollow, and also what the second card is; as when the round card comes in contact with the spring, it pushes it in, and as the latter slips it makes a slight noise, similar to the grating of the finger nails.nails. He can thus tell whether it is for his interest to take the second card or not, and—thanks to his previous preparation of the cards—it is as easy for him to take one as the other. An incidental advantage of this box is, that in case any of the players object to the apparently undue advantage in favor of the bank, it is possible for the dealer to offer to permit any player thus dissatisfied to deal in his stead, while he himself bets against the bank. Should his offer be accepted and a player open a bank, the latter, of course, not being acquainted with the secret spring of the box, will derive no benefit from the grating noise even should he notice it; while by reason of the professional dealer understanding the sound made by the secret spring, the latter is able to tell very nearly, if not absolutely, what card is coming next.

The “sand tell” box is particularly designed for the use of gamblers who desire to induce a player to deal the game. As its name implies, the cards used in it are “sanded,” while the “tell” consists of a small extra perpendicular plate near the front of the box on the inside, a trifle below its mouth, which causes the top card to stand slightly in advance of the deckdeck, so that the gambler can readily distinguish the card underneath.

A record of the game is kept by means of an implement known as a “case-keeper,” which is usually placed in care of an employe of the establishment. This device is a miniature “lay-out,” with four buttons attached to each wire as shown in the illustration. These buttons run on wires, one of which extends from the end of each card. When the deal begins, all the buttons are shoved up close to the cards; as soon as a “turn” is made, the two buttons opposite the cards dealt are shoved to the opposite ends of their respective wires. This enables anyone around the table to see, at a glance, how many cards of each denomination remain in the dealer’s box. When all four cards of any one denomination have been dealt, that is said to be “dead.” When three cards of any one denomination have been dealt, the one remaining in the box is called the “case,” or “single card.”

It may sometimes happen that the tally of a player will not agree with that of the case keeper, owing to the fact that the dealer has withdrawn two cards where he should have taken one. In such a case, a trick known as the “put back” is employed. A confederate of the dealer attracts the attention of the players while the extra card or cards taken from the box are adroitly returned to it by the dealer. Of course, there must be a perfect understanding between the latter and the case keeper, so that when two cards are dealt at once a signal may be given showing the denomination of the second card.

In case a player making a bet finds that he has been misled by the incorrectness of the record kept by the cue keeper, the invariable rule is that the bet must be determined by the cards remaining in the dealing box, a regulation which is, to say the least, not at all to the disadvantage of the bank.

But the cheating is not all on one side, and a device called a hair “copper” is sometimes employed by players to guard against a possible loss on a certain description of bets. This hair “copper” consists of a piece of shoemaker’s wax, the color of the check, a horse hair, and a string of rubber attached to a band around the wrist, secreted in the sleeve. The wax adheres to the copper at one end of the horse hair, which is invisible, the other end being fastened to the rubber string which is extended in the hand to the tops of the fingers. Placing this copper on a bet, if the turn comes in favor of the dealer the player quickly and without observation loosens the rubber which jerks the “copper” into his sleeve, causing the dealer to pay the bet he may have fairly won.

Another scheme for beating the dealer is not infrequently resorted to by professional gamblers. It is technically known among them as “snaking” the card. This consists of “ringing in” upon the proposed victim of certain prepared cards, which are placed among the other dealing cards in some secret manner, and at a time when he is not aware of it. Sometimes, when no other opportunity presents itself, the faro dealer’s room is entered by false keys during his absence, and his cards are so operated upon that the operator can, to a certainty, break the bank at the first opportunity. There are gamblers who travel through the country for the purpose of “snaking” games, seldom engaging in any other species of gaming, and it often happens that many professionals are badly bled through this means without suspecting it. Sometimes the services of some person who is a stranger to the dealer are secured to play against the bank in order to allay suspicion.

The modes of “snaking” are various. One of the earliest consists of placing an extra plate in the dealing-box, in connection with a piece of steel not larger than a cambric needle. The cards are then cut on the edges in such a way that the appearance and disappearance of this piece of steel tells whether the next card will win or lose. This steel point, in the rapidity of its motion, was compared to a snake’s tongue, and it is probable that the origin of the term “snaking” is to be found in this fancied resemblance.

Another method of “snaking” cards is as follows: The deck is prepared. Let us suppose that the “pot” cards—the six, seven and eight—are the ones selected. A pack of cards is taken, and the sixes, sevens, and eights sanded on the backs and the remainder of the pack on the faces. Small dots are then made on the face of each card in the deck, near the edge. The position of these dots is determined by measuring on the card with the plate which belongs to the dealing box. Now, when a sanded deck of cards is placed in a “sand tell” dealing box, every time a card is taken from the box the card next to the one taken moves a little forward in consequence of the card taken from the box pressing on the one underneath it. But, with these “snaked” cards, the case is somewhat different; while dealing with these cards, should a smooth one be next to the one drawn from the box, it would be drawn a little forward, i. e., if there is not one of these “sanded” cards underneath this smooth one. If there should be one of the sanded cards under the smooth one, the card left on the top, after making a turn, will be held back by the sanded card which is underneath it, and it will not be pulled forward at all. Now, when a card which is left on the top, after making a turn, is pulled forward, these dots (above mentioned) are visible on the face of the card, denoting that neither of the pot cards can lose on the first turn; consequently the pot cards are played to win as long as this dot is visible on the face of the top card. But, in case, after a turn is made, the top card should not move forward, then the dot on the face of the card underneath could not be seen, which shows that one of the pot cards (which are the six, seven or eight) will certainly lose on that turn; of course the pot is instantly coppered, that is, betting that these cards will lose.

Another and simpler plan is to perforate all the cards of a certain description, perhaps of either dark suit, from the two to the ten, with an instrument known as the “card punch,” of which the accompanying illustration will enable the reader to form a fair conception.

It is made of the finest steel, and is employed to puncture cards at the center. A “deck” thus prepared is substituted for that which the banker intends to place in the box. Sometimes, however, in this “diamond cut diamond” game, an entrance is effected to the dealer’s room and the “punch” is employed on his own cards. The substitution of the prepared pack for that of the banker is the fundamental point to be attained, and occasionally resort is had to desperate expedients. A fight is raised, and in the melee which ensues the dealer’s box is thrown upon the floor and the substitution quickly accomplished.

This shameless trick is played by one gambler upon another without the slightest compunction. What a commentary does this afford upon the hollowness of the old adage regarding “honor among thieves.” The author having never been guilty of larceny, as defined by either the common law or the criminal code, cannot speak for “thieves” technically defined as such. As to those greater thieves known as gamblers, however, he does not hesitate to say that among them “honor” is a word as unmeaning as the mirage of the desert is illusory.

But to return to the punctured cards. The holes made by the punch are so small that the player is often “beaten” by it. Whenever a white surface is seen through this small hole, the player is perfectly certain that the card underneath is the deuce, four, six, seven, eight or ten, and may accordingly back these cards to win for himself with absolute certainty. If a colored surface is discerned, he is equally certain that the next card will be of another denomination.

Yet another method is to sandpaper the edges of one-half the cards. Then, as the edge of the under card is seen through the slit in the dealing box, the outside player can tell in which half it belongs by noticing whether it is bright or dull. Of course, to practice this successfully, the player must remember correctly the cards making up each half; but when the division is made upon a system, this is an easy matter.

Besides the methods of cheating already described, which relate more particularly to the preparation of the cards and the construction and operation of the dealing box, there are other methods well known to professionals, which may be employed with comparative immunity and great success against the unsuspecting.

A favorite stratagem is to use a prepared deck containing fifty-three cards, one more than the legitimate pack contains, known among the fraternity as the “odd.” The odd card is never seen by the player; and as the cues come out correct, there is nothing of which he can complain. The advantage of its use to the gambler is that it gives him one sure turn during each deal, and he usually prefers to employ it on the last turn. In such a case, it is impossible for the bettor to win on the call, and he is equally certain to lose on any bet which he may make on that turn. The advantage of such a large additional percentage in favor of the game is palpable. A large proportion of players are fond of calling the “last turn,” because of the greater odds given by the bank; they are also more disposed to bet high on single cards at this stage of the deal, for the reason that a “split” is impossible. This is called playing cases. The manner in which a deck of fifty-three cards may be manipulated to the certain loss of such bettors may be best shown by means of an illustration. The denomination of the extra card is a matter of no importance, but we will suppose it to be an ace; its introduction would then make five aces in the pack. All the cards are then sanded except these five aces, which are marked on the edges with one or two dots, so as to be instantly recognized. The deck, having been thus prepared, is played in the following manner: The cards are first shuffled a few times from bottom to top, the dealer not then knowing the position of any card. The latter then commences finding the aces, which is easily accomplished, inasmuch as they are the only cards not sanded and are marked on the edges. While shuffling he places one ace on the top of the deck, over this he places a card of some other denomination, and on this another ace, and over this again yet another card. A false cut (which is accomplished in various ways, and is really no cut at all) is then given to the cards, which are next placed, faces upward, in the dealing box, the arranged cards being of course now at the bottom. Let us suppose that when the last turn is reached it consists of an ace, king and queen. Of course there are really two aces in the box, though only one is shown. If the dealer wishes to make the ace lose, all that he need do is to turn one card and then take two cards instead of one, through the aid of his “faked” box, the bottom one of these two cards being one of the aces, this leaves one card in the box, as there should be. Should he desire to make the ace win, he draws two on the first pull, and only one afterward, which results in one of the aces never being seen, making the cues on the last turn come out correct. Sometimes the cards are cut fairly, and the extra card comes in the middle of the deck; in such a case, when the dealer arrives where the aces are arranged, he is aware of it and acts in the same manner as has been already described when they are placed so as to fall in the last turn. Sometimes two odd cards are added to the deck, making the pack consist of fifty-four cards. When properly manipulated, the dealer has the advantage of being able to manage two turns instead of one.

Even when both cards and dealing box are perfectly “square,” it is still in the power of the professional gambler to take such advantages of persons not posted as to be morally certain of winning their money. For instance, should a player select certain favorite cards on which to bet (as is often the case), on the next deal the dealer may easily cause such cards to win or lose all the way through as he may desire, the bettor never suspecting that the run was not a matter of pure chance. As these favorite cards come out of the box, the dealer—at a moment when the bettor is not observing—places them at the bottom at the end of the deal, where they are not disturbed while shuffling. The deck is then “run in” endwise, and these cards being separated, will either win or lose throughout the game.

“Faked” dealing boxes are not always the “thing of beauty” and perennial source of joy which their manipulators would like to see them. They occasionally “get out of order;” a little sand works its way between the plates, and even an expert “brace” dealer finds it more or less difficult so to use the device that its employment cannot be detected. At Laredo, Texas, a few years ago, a “professional,” who is now dealer at a famous house in a Western city, encountered a difficulty of this sort. He “pulled” two cards, but so clumsily that the “sucker” observed it. “What’s the matter with your box?” the player asked. “O, it’s a little old, and don’t work just right,” was the answer. “Well, see here,” said the Texan, “that was an almighty short deal, somehow. Reckon I’m going to lose money any way; but hadn’t you better go a little slower and make one of them long deals? I’d like to take a little more time.” The game progressed and the stranger rose from the table a loser to the amount of three hundred dollars. “Look here,” he remarked to the dealer, “I reckon you’d better give me back the money you’ve cheated me out of.” The gambler, with an air of the utmost nonchalance, replied that he would be blanked if he gave back any of it. “Well,” remarked the countryman, as he drew down his slouch hat over his eyes and left the room, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” No sooner had he left than one of the employes of the establishment took the proprietor aside and advised him either to return the money or close the place at once, if he did not want the victim to return and shoot him “on sight.” The proprietor was a capital “brace” dealer, but physical courage was not his chief characteristic. He lost no time in acting on his subordinate’s suggestion. Hastily raising the window he called out to the victim—whose rapidly vanishing form was still in sight—“I say, you! Come back here a minute; I want to see you.” The “sucker” came back; the gambler greeted him cordially. “You old idiot,” said he, “can’t you take a little joke? Of course I knew that you were ‘capping,’ (i. e. acting as ‘capper’) for the game. Here’s your money old man.”man.” He handed him a roll of currency, which the stranger pocketed with a grim smile of satisfaction. But subsequent events proved that the proprietor “had builded better than he knew.” Sitting around the room were other men who had lost money and seen a fellow sufferer receive back his losses, it did not take long for the crowd to extinguish the lights, and in the darkness the unlucky dealer was “held up” for every dollar that he had with him.

3rd. The third adjunct to success in a “brace” faro game is by no means the least important. Confederates on the outside are considered sine qua non in every “skin” gaming hell. They are technically known as “ropers” or “steerers.” This euphonious appellation sufficiently indicates at once their character and the nature of the duties with which they are charged. The man who for a percentage and under the guise of friendship lures a man to loss is, if possible, morally lower than the scoundrel who robs him.

To be a good “steerer,” a man should possess some education and be endowed with a courteous and affable demeanor. The more polished his manners, the greater the value of his services. Men of this stamp hang about the depots, infest the corridors of hotels of every grade, and patrol the streets with far more watchfulness than does the average policeman. Their methods do not vary, in any marked respect, from those employed by “cappers” and “steerers” in other games, which are fully disclosed under other head lines. About the same qualifications are expected of faro and “bunko steerers,” and those required of the latter are plainly indicated in Chapter VIII.

There is, however, a class of “ropers” who do rather more than “dirty” work. These men hang about the entrances to houses which are alleged and believed to be “square,” turn out the gas in the stairway, and when a would-be player presents himself, assure him that “the house is closed for the night, but that they (or he) can ‘show him where a game is running.’” Should the verdant dupe be sufficiently gullible to believe the story, one of these miscreants “steers” him to a “brace” house, sees that he is “plucked,” and then claims and receives his percentage on the amount which the victim has lost.

Among broken-down gamblers who have lost the last vestige of self-respect, another game is popular. Individuals of this sort will hang about the side-walk in front of a “hell.” When a player goes up-stairs into the rooms, they watch him. If they can gain access to the house they watch his play; if they are too disreputable in appearance to be allowed inside the doors, they await his return. In either event, they ascertain whether he has lost or won. If the former, they promptly present themselves before the proprietor and claim the usual percentage paid to a “steerer,” and usually receive it. This sort of scamp is known among the fraternity as a “gutter snipe.”

Once in a while one of them proves himself of some service. On a certain evening, two young men had been playing faro at a “skin” house on the Bowery, in New York. They had pooled their resources and one of them had been doing all the betting. Their losses footed up about eighty dollars. After coming down stairs they stood upon the corner, bewailing their hard luck, when they were accosted by an individual who, although decidedly seedy, presented the appearance of being the wreck of what was once a gentleman. He told them that he had overheard their conversation and asked them if they would like to get a part of their money back. Being answered in the affirmative, he went on to say that he himself did not dare to go up into the rooms, but that if the man who had not done the betting would return alone and claim to have been acting as a “steerer,” he would receive from the proprietor a “capper’s” percentage of the house’s winnings. The advice was acted upon; one of the two again mounted the stairs, entered the apartmentapartment, demanded his forty-five per cent. of the money lost and received it without objection. The stranger was made happy by receiving a five dollar bill, and the friends walked away considerably wiser, if somewhat poorer, than when they first entered the den.

While speaking of “steerers” there is one fact which should not be overlooked. Not a few of the proprietors of the so-called “square” houses run “brace” games at other localities, “on the quiet.” These men keep “ropers” at the foot of the stairways leading up to their respectable (?) establishments, whose duty it is to inform any particularly verdant “sucker” that there is “no game being played here to-night,” and then “steer” him to the place where he can be fleeced with more ease and expedition. The same tactics are employed at times when public sentiment compels the closing of the gaming hells. The “reputable” gamblers shut their doors, and open a room either at a hotel or in some out of the way location, whither their “steerers” guide victims, thus partially at least, recouping their losses resulting from the closing of their regular rooms. Where they do not open other places they sometimes “stand in” with the keepers of “skin” rooms, to have their employes “steer” their patrons to the latter resorts, the “square” players, of course, receiving a percentage of the winnings.

The better class of houses of play close at about two o’clock in the morning, when the cards, dealing boxes and other paraphernalia are given a few hours rest. Others are open all night, and at Pueblo, Colorado, there is a resort whose doors are never closed. At all establishments, however, there are at least two sets of employes, known respectively as the “day” and “night-watch.” The day men arrive about nine in the morning, the dealer having the combination of the safe. He takes out the money, chips, cards, etc.; the “house is ready for business,” or to state it more accurately, the trap is set and baited for fresh game.

It is generally during the earlier hours of the day-watch that the game is “thrown off,” if at all. This term is a bit of gambler’s slang, and always means that some one is victimized through a gross breach of good faith, in other words, the victim is “thrown” to a confederate as a bone to a dog. The “throwing off a game” is usually worked as follows: Suppose that A, B and C enter into partnership to conduct a gaming house. A and B secretly agree to defraud C of the capital which he has advanced. C closes the house at night and A opens in the morning. B arranges with an outside party to come to the house in the morning while C is absent, and by collusion with the dealer, A, “win out the roll,” as it is technically termed, that is, win the money of the firm so that C’s share may be divided among the two scoundrels. Of all dastardly confidence games this may be probably set down as the meanest, and the fact that it is ever done shows how far the maxim “honor among thieves” applies to professional blacklegs.

The establishment at Pueblo to which reference has been made above, is probably the largest in the United States. It contains six faro tables, four roulette wheels, four hazard tables, two “stud” poker tables, two “draw” poker tables, one “short faro” table, one vingt-un table, one hieronymus bowl, and one table for playing a game known as “high suit.” They are all in one large room, which opens directly off the street, without any pretense of concealment, and contains, besides, a bar and a lunch counter. Back of this is an apartment in which occur two drawings daily, and yet farther in the rear is a keno room, where a game is run every night. This mammoth hell never closes its doors. Three sets of employes relieve each other, each “shift” (a designation for the alternate “watches,” borrowed from the phraseology of the Colorado miners) being on duty eight hours. As may be imagined, the cost of running such an establishment is enormous, and the fact that the proprietors continue to prosper financially shows that dupes are found in abundance.

There is one feature in the management of this Pueblo resort peculiar to itself. It is a very common thing in all gambling houses for a player who “has lost his roll” to ask a donation—or a “loan,” as he prefers to call it—of a small sum, wherewith to get a drink, procure a meal, or pay for a night’s lodging. Only in the lowest dives is such a request refused. In the Pueblo den, however, a different system is pursued. The proprietors never give money to any man, for the reason that they apprehend that the beneficiary might use it in playing against the house. At the same time no sober applicant (unless a chronic “dead beat”), whether player or stranger, is ever refused a drink, a cigar, a square meal, or a night’s lodging. Instead of cash, however, he is given a brass check which, while not receivable at the tables as stakes, is good at the bar, the lunch counter, or at a lodging house owned and run by the establishment, for refreshments of whatever kind he may desire.

This is a vastly simplified modification of the game of faro. The lay-out consists of six cards—ace, king, queen, jack, ten, and nine. The dealer commonly uses two or more packs, which he shuffles and usually deals from his hand, though sometimes from a box. The first three cards run off are for “the house,” and are dealt faces down and not exposed. The second three cards are for the player and are shown. Bettors place their stakes on the card or cards in the lay-out which they may select before the deal begins. The mode of play may be best shown by an illustration: Suppose a player wagers a dollar on the queen. If one of the three cards exposed happens to be a queen he wins one dollar; if two are queens he receives double the amount of his stake; if all three should prove to be queens the dealer returns him his original stake augmented by three times the amount; if no queen is shown the “house” gathers in the stake. It does not require a particularly erudite mathematician to discover that the odds at this game are enormously in favor of the bank. In the first place the player can win only should one of six cards out of fifty-two turn up. Moreover, of the six cards dealt he is allowed to see only three, thus reducing his already insignificant chances by one half. Even when fairly played the game, like roulette, is little short of downright robbery by the dealer, and when to this preponderance of chances one adds the numerous advantages which a professional “brace” dealer has over a greenhorn it is easy to foretell who will have the money at the end of the game.

The attentive reader will find, at various parts of this volume, allusions to the tacit understanding which often exists between the fraternity of black-legs and the police. The personal experience of the author is referred to and the chapter devoted to local gambling is replete with recitals of facts which afford food for reflection.

It may not be out of place here, however, to describe briefly the methods adopted for rendering ineffective even a carefully planned and honestly executed raid, if undertaken or managed by inexperienced or incompetent officers. The latter on gaining entrance to a room do not find any gambling in progress and are therefore unable to capture any property or make any arrests. The outer doors of the resorts are usually constructed of ponderous oak timbers, from four to ten inches thick, fastened together by means of heavy iron bolts. Of late years steel has been substituted for wood, and it is said that at one of the Chinese gambling hells in San Francisco the doors are made of thick rubber, resembling car springs in texture, the elasticity of which repels the blows of a sledge hammer as a marble pavement gives a rebound to a rubber ball. The object of making such doors is, of course, to prevent forcible intrusion. It is not of the employment of violence, however, that I am about to speak, but of those raids where the officers are given admission. It should be added that not infrequently entrance is granted, after a short delay, because the hospitable proprietors have been privately warned of the intended visit.

A small aperture in the door enables the door-keepers, one of whom is always in attendance, to inspect applicants for admission before undoing the bolts. If the custodian is in doubt as to the character of the callers, the proprietor is summoned. If the visitors are recognized as officers, an electric bell sounds a note of warning, and a parley between the blue-coats and the Cerebus at the portal follows. In the twinkling of an eye the cards, boxes, chips, lay-out, case-keeper, and money disappear into the safe. The table is at once transformed into an ordinary round-topped affair, covered with a crimson cloth. Scattered around the room are well dressed, quiet mannered gentlemen engaged in reading the newspapers, in discussing politics, or in general conversation. The police see nothing, and after apologizing for their intrusion, withdraw. Often the proprietor accompanies them to the stairway, and, cordially shaking hands, leaves in the honest (?) palm of the one in command a substantial token of his readiness to “bury the hatchet.” Scarcely have they reached the sidewalk before the table is placed in position, the safe unlocked, the money and paraphernalia taken out, the players resume their seats, and the game goes on as before. Is it surprising that the man who witnesses such a farce as this should entertain a contempt for the very name of law?

From what has been said, some unsophisticated reader may be led to suppose that running a faro bank is a short and easy road to fortune. No more fatal mistake could be made. Professional gamblers, almost without exception, die paupers. Nor is the reason far to seek. The gambler “on the inside,” is likely to win, even if the game is fairly played; and the skin dealer never loses, even by accident. But the curse of Heaven seems to attach to money thus accumulated. The winners rarely keep it long. The terrible fascination of the mania for gaming is no less potent with professionals than amateurs. The author might multiply illustrations, drawn from his own experience. A successful proprietor of a faro game will often draw from his safe thousands of his nefariously won money to drop it on the table in another house. Even Morrissey, the gambling king of the country, twice a member of the New York State Senate and later of the United States House of Representatives, owner of the most luxuriously appointed gambling house of the American metropolis and of the world famed “club house” at Saratoga, which vied with Monaco and Monte Carlo in its elegance—even Morrissey, the “prince of good fellows,” the idol of his friends, the once millionaire, died insolvent. The history of American gambling abounds in incidents scarcely less striking. Ephemeral success, debauchery, drunkenness, poverty, suicide or death from violence—this is the epitome of the career of the average blackleg. O! young men of America, you who are upon the very threshold of life, you who are in doubt as to “which way” you will direct your steps, you in whom are centered the fondest affections of so many hearts, you before whom so bright a future is opening, you upon whom depends the future of this great country, listen to the advice which comes from a heart that would avert from you the pangs which it has suffered. Believe one who has drained the cup to its very dregs, that at the bottom you will find only a serpent!

William Close,Close, one of the best known and most expert manipulators of a brace box known to American gamblers, who won heavily and bet as freely, died a pauper.

John Timmins, a successful dealer, “went broke” and in a fit of desperation, ended his miserable existence with a bullet.

Sam Cade, a “faro bank fiend” and one of the best poker players known in the “hells” was buried by a fund to which I was myself a subscriber.

These are but a tithe of the many instances that I might adduce in corroboration of the truth of what has been said.

An illustration of the well-nigh irreclaimable depravity of the case-hardened professional happened not many years ago in a St. Louis gambling house. A well dressed young man entered, sat down at the faro table, and in a very short time lost $500. His money gone, he hurriedly rose and left the room without a word. After his departure one of the “profession,” who was sitting in the room, looked toward the door and remarked, “Well, he dropped his little roll rather sudden.” Then he added, with a pensive air, “but it comes easy?” “What is he?” asked the dealer. “Why don’t you know?” was the inquiry of the first speaker. “He’s one of the finest ‘dips’ in the country.” “What’s a dip?” was the next conundrum of the proprietor. “Why, you driveling idiot,” replied his confrere, “a dip’s a pick-pocket.” “Well,” answered the winner, with a yawn, “I don’t care. Glad he makes money so easily. Hope he’ll ‘dip’ some more. A dip’s money is just as good to run bank with as any other.” And with this remark he wheeled about in his chair and was soon immersed in the newspaper, awaiting the arrival of another victim.

I cannot close this chapter on faro without a passing reference to an old gambler who at one time was a prominent figure all along the Mississippi valley, and whose face was as familiar to patrons of the river steamers as were the sand-bars which blocked the channel. I refer to “Colonel” Charles Starr. His long yarns were proverbial. According to his own story he owned half the plantations skirting the river. Occasionally some one would “pick him up” by telling him that he (the skeptic) was the owner of those broad acres. No such trifling circumstance as this abashed the “Colonel” in the least. Like Banquo’s ghost, he peremptorily and perennially refused to “down.”

Stories about him were as plentiful as “pickaninnies” about a negro cabin. It is said that once, at an Arkansas watering place, he was approached by an itinerant blackleg who asked for half a dollar with which to get something to eat. The “Colonel” surveyed him leisurely, from head to foot, before either granting or refusing his request. Finally he said: “How long did you say it was, young man, since you had anything to eat?” “Two days, Colonel.” “Well,” drawled Starr, “I reckon I don’t want to give you a half a dollar, but if you go without eating two days longer, I’ll give you a hundred dollars for your appetite.”

Starr was a gourmand, though a dyspeptic, and withal rather selfish. He went into a restaurant in New Orleans one day and ordered a sumptuous repast. A hungry, penniless gambler entered while he was eating, and approaching him, said: “Colonel, I’m awful hungry and I’m dead broke. Can’t you ‘stake’ me with some of that?” “Oh, no,” answered Starr, “you see, I’m a capper for the house, and my play doesn’t go.”

He accumulated a fair competence, but gambling and dissipation reduced him to poverty, and he died a pauper. The evening of the day preceding his death he entered a fashionable restaurant and ordered a dinner costing some seven or eight dollars. The proprietor called him on one side, and told him frankly that he did not feel disposed to “carry” him any longer, that he must pay cash for his order or it would not be filled. Starr said nothing, but went out and borrowed five dollars from a friend; returning, he threw it on a table and ordered the best meal obtainable for that sum. When it was set before him he deliberately turned every dish upside down upon the cloth, and walked out of the place. The following morning he died.

The game of poker is undoubtedly one of the “peculiar institutions”institutions” of the United States and, like base-ball, may be called a “National game.” It finds an abiding place alike among the pineries of the frozen Kennebec and the orange groves of Florida, in the gilded salons of Manhattan Island, the backwoods of Arkansas, and the mining camps of California. It numbers among its devotees men of letters and of the proletariat, the millionaire and the shoe-black, the railway magnate and the tramp. It recognizes no distinction of “age, color, or previous condition of servitude.” It draws not the line at sex, and is equally at home in the fashionable club house and the gambler’s den, the private parlor and the cheap lodging house. Men who avowedly abhor it, play it behind closed doors and drawn curtains, and ladies of culture and high social position are among its most devoted and most skillful patrons. To describe its fascination is as difficult as to account for it, yet the undisputable fact remains that of the vast army of men connected with mercantile pursuits in the United States, comparatively few can be found who have not some knowledge of the game; and were the whole truth disclosed, no insignificant number might reveal a tale of losses of no little magnitude.

Gentlemen, who would not, for worlds, enter a gaming hell, and who are apt to pride themselves upon their ignorance of faro, play poker at their clubs and by their own firesides, without either compunction of conscience or pretence of concealment. Intelligent, thoughtful men, eulogize the game as far removed from vulgarity, as calling into exercise some of the highest faculties of the human mind, and as resulting in healthy, moral effects.

This enthusiastic laudation of the game is all very well, but the naked facts remain, that whatever argument may be advanced against any form of gambling, may be urged with equal force against poker; and that this game sanctioned as it practically is, by the countenance of the reputable men who never set foot within a gaming house, has done more to weaken the moral sense of the country at large as to the general question of gambling than any other single agency. Its growing popularity and increasing prevalence constitute a menace by no means to be ignored to the prosperity, the morals, even the perpetuity of our people. A nation of gamblers is a nation whose course is already turned towards the setting sun.

As in the chapter devoted to the game of faro, the game will be first described as squarely and fairly played, after which the principal tricks of “card sharpers” will be taken up.

Foul Hand.—A hand composed of more, or less than five cards.

Going Better.—When any player makes a bet, it is the privilege of the next player to the left to raise him, that is, after making good the amount already bet by his adversary, to make a still higher bet. In such a case it is usual to say, “I see you, and go (so much) better,” naming the extra sum bet.

Going In.—After making good the ante of the age and the straddles (if any) for the privilege of drawing cards and playing for the pool.

Limit.—A condition made at the beginning of a game, limiting the amount of any single bet or raise.

Making Good.—Depositing in the pool an amount equal to any bet previously made. This is done previous to raising or calling a playing, and is sometimes called seeing a bet.

Original Hand.—The first five cards dealt to any player.

Pat Hand.—An original hand not likely to be improved by drawing, such as a full, straight, or flush.

Pass.—“I pass,” is a term used in Draw Poker, to signify that a player throws up his hand and retires from the game.

Raising a Bet.—The same as going better.

Say.—When it is the turn of any player to declare what he will do, whether he will bet, or pass his hand.

In the fair game, the deal is of no special value and anybody may begin.

The dealer, beginning with the person at his left, throws around five cards to each player, giving one card at a time.

The dealer shuffles and makes up the pack himself, or it may be done by the player at his left, and the player at his right must cut.

To begin the pool, the player next to the dealer on his left, must put up money, which is called an “ante,” and then in succession, each player, passing around to the left, must after looking at his hand determine if he goes in or not; and each player deciding to play for the pool must put in twice the amount of the ante. Those who decline to play throw up their cards, face downward on the table, and per consequence in front of the next dealer.

When all who wish to play have gone in, the person putting up the ante can either give up all interest in the pool, thus forfeiting the ante which has been put up, or else can play like the others who have gone in, by “making good,” that is, putting, up in addition to the ante as much more as will make him equal in the stake to the rest.

The players must throw away their discarded cards before taking up or looking at those which they draw.

In poker, as fairly played, every player is for himself and against all others, and to that end will not let any of his cards be seen, nor betray the value of his hand by drawing or playing out of his turn, or by change of countenance, or any other sign. It is a great object to mystify your adversaries, up to the “call,” when hands have to be shown. To this end it is permitted to “chaff,” or talk nonsense, with a view of misleading your adversaries as to the value of your hand, but this must be without unreasonably delaying the game.

When the drawing is all complete, the betting goes around in order, like the drawing, to the left. The ante man is the first to bet unless he has declined to play, and in that case the first bet is made by the player nearest to the dealer on his left. But the player entitled to bet first may withhold his wager until the others have bet round to him, which is called “holding the age,” and this being considered an advantage, is very frequently done.

Each bettor in turn must put into the pool a sum equal at least to the first bet made; but each may in turn increase the bet, or “raise” it, as it comes to him; in which case the bets proceeding round in order must be made by each player in his turn, equal to the highest amount put in by any one; the party who fails being required to go out of the play, forfeiting his interest in the pool.

When a player puts in only as much as has been put in by each player who preceded him, that is called “seeing the bet.”

WhenWhen a player puts in that much, and raises it, that is called seeing the bet and “going better.”

When the bet goes around to the last bettor, or player, who remains in, if he does not wish to see and go better, he simply sees and “calls,” and then all playing must show their hands, and the highest hand wins the pool.

When any one declines to see the bet, or the increase of bet, which has been made, he “lays down” his hand; that is, throws it up with the cards face downwards on the table. If all the other players throw down their hands, the one who remains in to the last wins, and takes the pool without showing his hand.

To “bluff” is to take the risk of betting high enough on a poor hand or a worthless one, to make all the other players lay down their hands without seeing or calling you.

When a hand is complete so that the holder of it can play without drawing to better it, that is called a “pat” hand. A bold player will sometimes decline to draw any cards, and pretend to have a “pat” hand, and play it as such when he has none.

A skillful player will watch and observe when each player draws, the expression of the face, the circumstances and manner of betting, and judge, or try to judge, of the value of each hand opposed to him accordingly.

No one is bound to answer the question, how many cards he drew, except the dealer; and the dealer is not bound to tell after the betting has begun.

1. A Sequence Flush—Which is a sequence of five cards, and all of the same suit.

2. Fours—Which is four of the five cards of the same denomination.

3. A Full—Which is a hand consisting of three cards of the same denomination and two of likewise equal denomination.

4. A Flush—Which is all five cards of the same suit.

5. A Sequence—Which is all five cards not of the same suit, but all in sequence. [In computing the value of a sequence, an ace counts either as the highest or the lowest card; that is below a deuce or above a king.]

6. Threes—Which is three cards of the same denomination, but the other two of different denominations from each other.

7. Two pairs.

8. One pair.

When a hand has neither of the above the count is by the cards of the highest value or denomination.

When parties opposed each hold a pair, the highest pair wins, and the same when each party holds threes or fours.

When each party holds two pairs, the highest pair of the two determines the relative value of the hands.

When each party holds a sequence, the hand commencing with the highest card in the sequence wins; so, also, when two or more parties hold flushes against each other.

That full counts highest of which the three cards of the same denomination are highest. The two cards of same denomination help only to constitute the full, but do not add to the value of the hand. When hands are equal so far that each party holds a pair, or two pairs, of exactly the same value, the next highest card or cards in each hand must be compared with the highest card or cards in the other hand, to determine which wins.

In case of the highest hands, (which very seldom occurs) being exactly equal, the pool is divided.

Age.—Same as eldest hand.

Ante.—The stake deposited in the pool by the age at the beginning of the game.

Blaze.—This hand consists of five court cards, and, when it is played, beats two pairs.

Blind.—The ante deposited by the age previous to the deal. The blind may be doubled by the player to the left of the eldest hand, and the next player to the left may at his option straddle this bet, and so on, including the dealer, each player doubling. The player to the left of the age, alone has the privilege of the first straddle, and if he decline to straddle it debars any other player coming after him from doing so. To make a blind good costs double the amount of the ante, and to make a straddle good costs four times the amount of the blind. Each succeeding straddle costs double the preceding one.

Call.—When the bet goes round to the last bettor, a player who remains in, if he does not wish to see and go better, simply sees and calls, and then all those playing show their hands, and the highest hand wins the pool.

Chips.—Ivory or bone tokens, representing a fixed value in money.

Chipping, or to Chip.—Is synonymous with betting. Thus a player, instead of saying “I bet,”“I bet,” may say “I chip” so much.

Discard.—To take from your hand the number of cards you intend to draw, and place them on the table, near the next dealer, face downwards.

Draw.—After discarding one or more cards, to receive a corresponding number from the dealer.

Eldest Hand, or Age.—The player immediately at the left of the dealer.

Filling.—To match, or strengthen the cards to which you draw.

The following descriptions of what are known as “jack-pots,” a modification of the game of draw-poker, is taken from “Trump’s American Hoyle,” which Blackbridge pronounces the standard authority on this as on all other card games:

When all the players pass up to the blind hand, the latter allows his blind to remain in the pot, and each of the other players deposit a similar amount. The blind now deals, and any player in his regular turn may open or break the pot, provided he holds a pair of jacks or better, but a player is not compelled to do so, this being entirely optional.

Each player in turn, commencing with the one at the left of the dealer, declares whether he can and will open the pot; if he declines to open, he says, “I pass.” If he has the requisite hand, and elects to open, he says, “I open.”

If no player opens the pot, then each player deposits in the pool the same amount that was previously contributed, and the deal passes to the next player. The same performance ensues until some player holds the necessary cards, and is willing to break the pot.

A player may break the pot for any amount within the limits of the game and each player in turn must make the bet good, raise it, or pass out.

After all the players who determined to go in have made good the bet of the player who opened the jack-pot, and the hands have been filled, then the opener of the pot makes the first bet.

If all pass, up to the player who broke the pot, the latter takes the pool, and can only be compelled to show the jacks, or better, necessary to break the pot.

One of the most vital adjuncts to poker games as played in the many “club-rooms” scattered throughout the United States is technically termed the “take off.” It is an amount taken by the proprietors out of the pots as a percentage due the “house” on every hand “called,” and shown down; a pair of aces and another pair, and you must “go to the hole” with a check. The “hole” is a slot cut in the middle of the table, leading to a locked drawer underneath, and all checks deposited therein are the property of the keeper of the place. At other resorts the house “takes off” for each pair of jacks or any better hand shown on the call, while at others the percentage is exacted for any two pairs shown. It will be readily seen, by any intelligent reader, that it is only a question of time when all the player’s chips will go into the “hole.” The exaction of the “take off” is justified on the score of incidental expenses, lights, etc., but a compound interest note, on which interest is computed quarterly, will not take away your money more surely or more rapidly than this innocent looking “hole.”

In “stud-poker” the dealer attends to the “take off.” He is supposed to take one check for every pair in sight, and for every “call,” but owing to a manual dexterity acquired through long practice he is enabled considerably to exceed the stipulated limit, and it is but a short time before all the money played against the game is in the table drawer.

Having briefly outlined the principles of the fair game of poker, and explained the relative value of the hands of cards which may bebe held by players, it is next in order to explain the various advantages obtained by professional gamblers over those whom they propose to fleece, such as stocking the cards, employing marked cards or cards previously prepared, “crimping,” “ringing in cold decks,” “holding out,” false shuffles and cuts, “convexes” and “reflectors,” &c., &c.

First will be described the simplest of all known methods of stocking the cards, viz.:

Prepared cards are either “Strippers” or “Briefs.” In preparing “Strippers” the professional selects from the pack two hands, which may be either “Fulls,” “Flushes,” or “Fours.” The sides of the remaining cards are then prepared so that they shall be a little narrower than the hands selected. The cards withdrawn for stripping are then cut slightly convex on the sides, somewhat after the manner of strippers prepared for faro.

The number of cards taken out varies according to the character of the hand to be made up. If the sharper wishes to deal flushes he will require ten cards of the same suit. If full hands are desired he picks out two sets of three of a certain denomination together with four smaller cards of a kind. The object of this selection is to give variety to the hands to be dealt. The manner of conducting this scheme of fraud is substantially as follows: As the gambler shuffles it is not difficult for him to feel along the sides of the pack with the fingers of his right hand; he then draws out the wider cards, which he places upon the top of the pack. When he has succeeded in getting the wide cards on top he next divides the pack, then taking each portion by the outer ends, he places the two halves evenly together and then, with comparative ease, so shuffles them in that no two cards of the same size shall lie together, but instead shall alternate over and under each other throughout the whole deck.

The reader who will carefully study the foregoing explanation will see that the cards will run off “Four-handed;” that is that they will fall to the hands of opposite players.

In the practice of this trick the professional finds the services of a partner of great value to him. If, however, he have none, when he deals he places one card above the hands which he has set up in order that his antagonist may receive one of the arranged hands while he takes the other. Let us suppose that the hands have been arranged as “Flushes.” If the dealer finds that in his hand he has not an ace, as a matter of course he refrains from betting. If, however, the hands be “Fulls,” the professional’s acquaintance with the arrangement enables him to know which is the better hand, and he bets, or refrains from betting, as he knows is best.

It is also possible to employ strippers in a two-handed game. In the latter case the dealer strips the pre-arranged hands, but does not mix them as in a four-handed game, preferring to “shift” on his own deal and allow the cards to run without cutting on that of his antagonist.

Sometimes in using strippers in a four-handed game the dealer will place a “Jog,” that is a hand, over them and allow his confederate to cut the pack down to the prepared place. At first sight the employment of cards thus prepared may appear rather difficult, yet the professional blackleg finds it comparatively easy after a little practice. “Full” hands and “Fours of a kind” may be set up without difficulty. The swindler knows which the ten strippers are, and in taking up his five cards he is, of course, well informed as to the value of the five cards which his opponent has, and guides himself accordingly. To illustrate: Suppose there are ten strippers made up of four fives, three aces and three kings, and that the sharper secures three aces and two kings. Naturally he refuses to bet, being well aware that the four fives and the king must be held by his antagonist.

The “Brief,” which is a card used not only in poker, but also in various other games, is a card nicely trimmed on the sides to such a width that it can be readily distinguished by the dealer’s touch.

The advantage of using such a card is that it enables the party knowing of its existence to cut at the point where it lies. Sometimes the “brief” is placed on the top of the prepared hand and the confederate of the dealer uncovers the pre-arranged cards by making precisely the correct cut.

By far the most common description of frauds employed by professional gamblers in playing poker, however, is that of “stocking” the cards. Four varieties of “stocks” are employed by the fraternity, commonly known as the top stock, the bottom stock, the jog stock and the palm stock.

Of all these, perhaps the one most ordinarily employed—possibly because the one most easily accomplished—is the top stock. In preparing the pack for the perpetration of this fraud, the dealer selects a pair and places between the two cards as many others as there are players at the table, less one. Thus, if there are four persons playing he inserts three cards between the two constituting the pair; if five, he places four; and so on, as the number of players is greater or less. His next step is to place above the pair thus arranged, the same number of cards which he has placed between them, the result being that when he deals, the two cards which he desires must necessarily fall to his own hand. A partner is also a desirable adjunct in this case, as he ordinarily sits at the right hand of the dealer, in order that he may either give the cards a false cut, or allow them to run. If, however, the dealer has no partner, he ordinarily has to resort to the device of “shifting the cut” (a trick which will be explained below), in order that the arrangement of the pack may not be disturbed. If the sharper can manage to get hold of the three cards of the hands which are thrown up, he may sometimes find it practicable to arrange “threes of a kind” in this way, as well as a pair.

In executing the bottom stock the tactics employed are substantially the same as in the top stock, by that the pair are placed on the bottom of the pack instead of on the top. The dealer takes great care in shuffling that he shall not disturb the lower part of the pack. The point at which the deck is cut makes considerable difference in the success of this maneuver. If, after cutting, it is found that all of the pack, except the cut, is necessary to supply the players with the requisite number of cards, then the pair will fall to the hand which has the last card, for the reason that the player who receives the bottom card must necessarily have also received the other; but if the dealer sees that the bottom card is not destined to fall to himself, when he reaches the last two cards he “shifts” them, that is, reverses the order of dealing so that the party who should receive the top one receives the lower, while that uppermost falls to the next player. It may be readily perceived that by this trick the dealer has separated the pair, one falling to one hand, and the other to the player seated immediately upon the dealer’s left. I have already stated that the point at which the deck may be cut plays no unimportant part in the successful accomplishment of this maneuver. In fact, in order to succeed it is essential that the sharper have a partner at his right who will cut so near to the bottom of the deck that the lower cards will have to be run off. It is immaterial to the two scoundrels which of them receives the pre-arranged pair, inasmuch as the winnings are to be divided between them, consequently the bottom stock affords a double chance for the perpetration of fraud.

Occasionally a blackleg who has no partner, but who observes that some particular player is in the habit of cutting the pack very deep, will so arrange matters that he may sit next to him, this renders an innocent party inadvertently an accomplice to his nefarious practices. When two sharpers sit in a game with honest players and have resort to the use of the bottom stock, especially if to this be added “signing up,”—by which is meant “signaling” to one’s confederate the cards which one has—it is, however, a moral impossibility for the unsophisticatedunsophisticated to beat the combination of the sharpers.

Should the trick be suspected the sharp rogues will place the remainder of the pack on top of the cut, suffering a “jog”—which will be explained later—to lie over it, by which means they are enabled to deal from the entire pack, which usually tends to counteract suspicion. Sometimes, after the pair has been placed on the bottom of the pack another card is put underneath, the result being that the player who receives the next to the last card will receive the pair. This very simple trick has been found most efficacious in puzzling a suspicious player, who is ordinarily greatly surprised to find that the hand into which falls the last card has not received the prepared pair. Sometimes two, or even three cards are placed on the bottom, the principle being the same, although in this case it is necessary that the dealer should carefully remember the number of cards so placed, in order that he may know precisely when he reaches the lower card of the pair.

The “jog” stock is a device which it is absolutely impossible to execute without the aid of a confederate, yet it is regarded by professionals as one of the most effectual means of defrauding an honest player. As in the case of the top and bottom stocks, a pair is arranged by the dealer, who places upon it a sufficient number of cards to make the pair fall to his own hand. He next shuffles the pack once or twice in such a manner as to keep the arranged cards on the top, after which he slides a portion of the deck over the pair, leaving a narrow break or jog along the side, thus separating the hand which he has put up from the remainder of the pack. His confederate, it should be remembered, always sits on his right, then takes that part of the deck which rests upon the top of the stocked hand, with the thumb and finger of his right hand grasping them by the ends. Then with the thumb and middle finger of his left hand he seizes, in the same manner, the pre-arranged cards underneath; he draws out the latter and places them on top of the others, leaving them in precisely the same position as they were before his confederate offered them to him to cut.

An expert sharper, after winning once through these means, on his next deal so arranges the pack that the pair shall fall to his partner, with whom he bets, and to whom he apparently loses money. After this the cards are permitted to run naturally for one or two hands, when the second scoundrel repeats the same tactics.

The reflecting reader will readily perceive that this device is far less likely to arouse suspicion than the employment of either the top or bottom stock, and for this reason is more popular with experts than either of the other two.

In playing this trick many sharpers have resorted to the use of glazed cards. Usually the backs have been previously prepared by slightly roughening them with very fine sand-paper. The object of doing this is to cause the cards to adhere together and prevent them from slipping about during the process of shuffling. This enables the dealer to place the pack to a very fine break, which renders the cutting more easy and attracts less attention. I have known experts who were able to set up “three of a kind” in this way as easily as a single pair, although for the successful accomplishment of this it is necessary that the two confederates should understand each other thoroughly. In such a case the partner sitting on the dealer’s right observes what pair the latter has, and, if possible, either by cutting the third card into his own hand or from the hands thrown down, and turns it to his confederate with the proper number of cards beneath. If the dealer allow the hand to pass to his partner, the latter, if he wins and deals, passes the cards on to the bottom, in order that the hand may run out on the bottom stock.

No little dexterity is required to manipulate the “palm stock.” I have seen professionals attempt its execution and come to no small grief through its being detected in consequence of their clumsiness. In order to execute this maneuver effectually, the party intending to employ it must be on the left of the dealer. He obtains possession of a high pair—perhaps kings or aces—and while he is holding one in each hand in such a way that neither can be perceived, he asks that he be allowed, after the shuffling and cutting, to cut the deck again. Permission having been granted, he seizes the pack in his right hand, places one of the cards which he has withheld in his hand on top of the pack, and as he cuts he leaves as many cards on the table as may be necessary to intervene between the pair in order that they may be “Put up.” Then as he grasps these cards with his left hand he places the other card of the pair on the top and throws them on top of the pack. It is not difficult to see that the result of this maneuver is to place the two cards which he has “palmed” in such a position that they will inevitably fall to himself. Of course it is not possible to practice this trick frequently without exciting suspicion, but I have, myself, by employing it judiciously, managed to win no inconsiderable sums. As a rule, after executing the “Palm Stock,” the black-leg “goes a blind,” and the trick is rarely attempted unless there is a large “ante.”

Another favorite practice among the black-legs is the “False Shuffle.” Almost all sharpers have their own individual methods of shuffling; but perhaps the one which is most approved is that known among the profession as “the intricate shuffle.” It is executed substantially as follows: The cards are “ripped,” that is, the deck is divided into two halves, which are pushed entirely through each other, after which they are drawn out at the ends, and the half which was previously on top is replaced in the same position. Some professionals shuffle only the lower half of the pack, not disturbing the top, but concealing the upper cards by means of keeping three or four fingers over the end of the pack which is towards their antagonist. Sometimes a very quick shuffle is employed which does not disarrange the cards on the top, and after this the pack is given a double false cut, by means of which the cards originally uppermost are retained in the same position. The device, which, if rapidly executed, appears to the unsophisticated player a perfectly fair shuffle, only a practical acquaintance with the operation of the trick enables the verdant amateur to detect this trick when executed adroitly.

Besides false shuffles, professionals also have resort to false cuts. Of these, there are but two varieties in common use, known respectively as the “over hand” and “double” cut. In the former about one-third of the pack is taken with the right hand, while one-half the remainder is concealed in the left. The party cutting brings the left hand towards him, that portion of the deck which is left on the table is then covered by the dropping of the cards held in the right hand, the hand still being kept over them, while those in the left hand are thrown over and beyond the others; the maneuver is completed by placing the cards in the right hand on the top.

In the execution of the “double” cut, the middle of the pack is drawn out at the end with the thumb and middle finger, after they are brought to the top of the deck, the cards originally uppermost are caught by the lower part of the thumb and three fingers, drawn out at the end and once more placed on the top. In either case the pack is left in precisely the same position as it was before the seeming cut had been made. The object is the same in the case of both false shuffles and false cuts; that is, to leave the pre-arranged pack in precisely the condition in which the dealer wished it to be.

Sometimes, when a perfectly fair cut is made by an honest player, the professional finds it desirable to “shift” the cut, or, in other words, to replace the two sections of the pack in the same condition in which they were before they had been offered for cutting. The methods of executing this trick are multiform. Ordinarily, however, the operator finds it desirable to have a partner on his left; in fact, in draw-poker it is difficult to execute the maneuver without some assistance. Three of a kind having been placed on top in the shuffle, the cut is left on the table, and the professional deals from the remainder. The deal being completed, removed from the table with the right hand, the cut “shifted,” and the pack dropped into the left hand ready for his partner’s draft.

This piece of chicancery, if successfully performed, is almost impossible of detection by a greenhorn, and even the professional gamblers are not infrequently deceived by its dexterous manipulation.

The accompanying illustration affords a view of two “skin” gamblers engaged in victimizing a “sucker” by means of a trick familiarly known among the fraternity as “tipping” or “signing the hand.” Large sums of money have been won through this means, not only from verdant dupes, but even from professionals who prided themselves upon their astuteness. In order to work it successfully, marked cards are indispensable, and at least one of the confederates, who act in unison, must be an expert at the use of “paper,” as marked or “advantage” cards are called among the gamblers.

The cut shows the method in which the trick is carried on. Player number 3 represents the “sucker;” player number 2 the swindler who has induced him to play on the promise of “tipping” the “hand” of number 1, who is in reality the partner of number 2, although, of course, this latter fact is unknown to number 3. The method of playing this nefarious confidence game may be best shown by an illustration. Number 2 always faithfully signals number 3 precisely what cards are in the hands of number 1. The latter being an expert marked card player, of course, knows with absolute certainty what cards are held by number 3. Let us suppose that number 1 holds a pair of sixes and number 3 a pair of fives. Number 2 signals to number 3 that number 1 has in his hand a low pair. Number 3 is naturally in the dark as to whether the pair in question is of a lower denomination than his own, and in the hope that it may prove to be makes his bet. Number 1 immediately “raises” him, and this is continued as long as the victim can be induced to wager, or until number 3 has “staked” his “pile.”“pile.” The hands being “shown down,” of course number 1 takes the stakes.

Perhaps one of the most successful feats accomplished by the professional gambler is that known as “running up two hands.” Under such circumstances the game is no longer a contest, but a certainty. It is sometimes played with a partner, sometimes without. If the operator have no partner, he usually selects his seat on the right of the man whom he considers the most verdant of the players. When he observes that his left hand neighbor has a prospect of winning, he immediately “passes,” and taking up the pack prepares the hand as follows:

He selects the individual to whom he proposes to give, let us say, three tens; also, the one upon whom he intends to bestow the larger set of threes, say three kings; in putting up the hands, however, he commences with his own, and while the cards face him for the reason that he knows that when the pack is reversed for the purpose of dealing the uppermost card facing him will be the last one dealt, and as he sits on the right of the dealer, it will of course fall to him. Having selected a king (the face of the pack being uppermost) he places as many cards below as there may be players on his right between himself and the person to whomwhom he wishes to give the three tens. Below these he places another ten, and underneath that as many cards as there are players between himself and the player who is to receive the tens. In the same manner he arranges the other tens together with the kings, so that the three tens may be brought to the bottom. This being done the pack is turned over and as a matter of course the ten placed on the bottom now becomes the top card. His next move is to place as many cards over these as there are players on the left of the dealer, between the latter and the unfortunate individual who is destined to receive the tens.

This explanation may not be as clear to the reader as some of those which have preceded it, yet to go into full details would require more space than can be afforded to a description of the trick. The preparations having all been arranged, the expert very rapidly gathers in the cards as they are thrown down, placing them underneath the pack. He then begs to be permitted to shuffle before the regular dealer. If the request be granted he takes care so to shuffle as to not disturb the hands which he has arranged with so much care. In fact he usually has recourse to the device which has been already described as a “false shuffle.” Sitting on the dealer’s left, of course the cut falls to him, and he either gives the deck a false cut, or says “let them run.”

The consequence of this maneuver is that the blackleg receives the three kings, while one of the other players obtains the three tens. The three tens being considered a safe hand upon which to bet, it is not a difficult matter to induce the verdant player to stake a considerable sum, which the expert invariably wins. The sharper, however, finds it far more easy to accomplish his nefarious end if he has a partner. The latter individual, after the cards have been stocked, gives a “false shuffle.” Professional No. 1, who sits at his partner’s right, gives the deck a false cut, and professional No. 2 runs the cards off. It may seem incredible to the average reader that men will sit around a poker table and permit such dallying with the pack.

After long experience, however, I must say that the cases are exceptional in which a smart operator may not manage to arrange three or four such hands in the course of an evening’s play. Sometimes two sharpers, acting as partners, manage to keep the deal between them for two or three consecutive times; meanwhile they arrange the cards on the bottom by degrees, and when everything has been completed the bottom of the pack is transferred to the top. Sometimes hands are arranged in this way and dealt in the same manner as from the bottom stock, which has already been explained, the confederate, as a matter of course, being fully aware which is the best hand.

The ease with which even those hands which at first sight appear most difficult to arrange, may be prepared in this way, is almost inconceivable to the novice. “Flushes” seem an intricate hand to arrange, yet in fact they are among the easiest. A detailed explanation of their arrangement, however, would hardly be either intelligible or interesting to the average reader.

A favorite method of cheating at poker is that known as “crimping” the cards, which is effected in one of either two ways: The former is when the player is at the left hand of the professional dealer, in a four-handed game, or his opponent in a two-handed game.

The second method is when the sharper deals himself. In the former case the player so stocks a hand that it shall fall to himself, after which he “crimps” or bends down the sides of the cards of which it is composed. This having been done, after the shuffle has been made the sharper may readily cut to the hand prepared, since there will be a hardly perceptible space between it and the cards above it. If the dealer shuffles “over-handed,” the hand will rarely be broken. If crimping is to be resorted to on one’s own deal, the expert usually waits until he has secured a high hand, when he bends it down, as above described. He then places it on the bottom of the pack, and shuffles in such a way that it shall not be disturbed. After dealing, he lays down his own cards as quietly as possible, close to the deck; then, with his left hand, he draws the “crimped hand” from the bottom, and with his right places the remainder of the pack on the top of the hand which he had originally received. He then shoves them aside, and at the same moment lifts from the table the prearranged hand, which is thus substituted for the one which he has secretly discarded. In order to guard against detection, the moment when the other players are engaged in examining their hands is the one usually selected by the blackleg for the execution of this maneuver.

The use of “cold decks” in almost all card games has become so common, among the professionals, that the term, “ringing in a cold deck,” has achieved a recognized place in the vocabulary of American slang. Almost every one knows that the expression refers to a substitution of one thing for another, yet not every one knows whence the phrase has its origin.

A “cold deck” is a pack previously prepared, in which the hands of the dealer and all the other players have been carefully arranged. To “ring in” such a pack, is to substitute it for the one which has been fairly shuffled and cut. There are many ways of accomplishing this substitution. Sometimes a bill is dropped on the floor, and while the dealer is engaged in looking for the greenback the “cold deck” is raised, the original pack being secreted. This method, however, has become ancient, not to say effete. The most approved method now-a-days, is to place the prepared pack in the lap, to raise it nearly to the line of the table with the left hand, and, after the true deck has been cut, draw the latter to the edge of the table with the right hand directly above the “cold deck;” at the same time the latter is raised, the discarded pack is simultaneously dropped into the lap, where it falls into a handkerchief previously spread in order to receive it. The deal having been made, the sharper folds up his handkerchief and places it in his pocket.

Marked cards are among the favorite and most profitable “tools” of the professional blackleg. Among the fraternity they are technically known as “paper.” When successfully used every element of chance is eliminated from the game, and the play is practically reduced to a cut-throat contest, in which the professional alone carries the knife. In a two-handed game no honest player can ever hope to win against a gambler who employs them. They are usually marked so as to indicate not only the suit, but also the denomination of each card in the pack. As he deals the professional reads and remembers the hand of his opponent, and bets only when he knows that he has the advantage. At the same time it is sometimes deemed expedient to place a wager even upon an inferior hand, lest suspicion be excited by the too pronounced uniformity in winning. It is hardly necessary to point out the tremendous percentage of profit which is bound to accrue to one using cards of this character. Marked cards may be bought, from all dealers in what are known as “gambler’s goods,” but some experts prefer to purchase cards which are entirely “straight,” and mark them themselves. The sight of the name of a well-known manufacturer of playing cards, whose reputation is unblemished, will usually prevent or disarm suspicion on the part of a greenhorn.

In a two-handed game the cards thus prepared are usually marked to indicate only the size, the suit being a matter of comparative indifference. The method of using them in a four-handed game differs somewhat from that employed where one party plays against a single antagonist, but the reader may readily imagine that in either case the advantage in favor of the professional is simply enormous. A detailed explanation of the method in which they are employed would hardly prove profitable reading to the general public, and for this reason the subject is passed over somewhat lightly. Some are marked with a representation of the American eagle (what a travesty on the emblem of equality and fraternity!), and during the war thousands of the brave boys who took their lives in their hands in defense of the “old flag” were defrauded of the scanty pittance paid them by the government, through the machinations of unscrupulous scoundrels, who cheated them at poker through marked cards on whose backs was depicted a mimic representation of the standard for which they fought. Satire could not well go farther, inasmuch as the government which they had sworn to defend, tolerated the rascally proceedings even under the very folds of the starry banner itself.

Besides the “stamped” cards—i. e., those on which the secret marks are printed—professional blacklegs use others. An ordinary pack may be prepared by an “artist in coloring” in such a way that he may read the backs as easily as the faces. For this purpose a paint composed of chloroform, alcohol and some pigment is applied with a camel’s hair brush. The pigment may be of any hue—ultramarine, vermillion, etc.—the color selected being always the nearest approximate shade to that of the backs of the cards played with. Card sharpers who are expert marked card players (and it must be remembered that not every professional gambler possesses the necessary qualifications) always travel with a full outfit of packs. On steamboats they will buy out the entire stock of the bar keeper, furnish him with a fresh supply gratuitously, and even pay him a bonus to handle their goods. The result is that when any player on the boat wants a fresh pack, he finds himself compelled to buy the cards whose backs the professionals can read. In towns these manipulators of the pasteboards will either secure the introduction of their cards at the gaming houses through the payment of a percentage, or will see that they are placed on sale at some jewelry, drug, stationery or cigar store near the locality where the game is to be played. The next move is to introduce them at the card table, which is sometimes found to be a very easy matter. In some of the succeedingsucceeding paragraphs of this chapter the reader will find related some of my own experiences in this direction which may not prove uninteresting.

A favorite method of “ringing in” these cards—as gamblers term their introduction—is as follows: Two sharpers act in concert. One goes to a town and selects a victim, who is usually a country youth who has money. He tells his dupe that he is “dead broke,” perhaps because of sickness, perhaps for some other reason; that he is a professional gambler and can teach any man how to win at cards. The cupidity of the young man from the rural districts is aroused. The gambler shows him some marked cards and teaches him how to read the backs. Then he sends for his confederate. When the latter arrives the first swindler professes not to know him, and pretends to make his acquaintance for the first time. He then tells the selected victim that he has found a “soft mark,” (which in the vernacular of the profession means a particularly gullible dupe), and offers to introduce him, so that the countryman may win his money through the marked cards. The game is begun; of course the supposed “stranger” is as familiar with the marks as is the greenhorn, besides being master of innumerable other arts of the blackleg, of which the greenhorn knows nothing. The result is a foregone conclusion; the sharper wins all the money which the verdant young man can be induced to bet.

Sometimes it happens that the dupe becomes discouraged at his poor success and declines to play further. In such a case, if the rascals believe that he has any more money, the first confederate will secretly offer to “tip off” the new comer’s hand, a device which rarely fails to prove successful under such circumstances, and an explanation of which has been already given.

As a rule, professional gamblers who travel through the country with a view to defraud the unsophisticated by means of poker-playing, ordinarily work in partnership. Sometimes two—sometimes more—players compose the traveling combination, and divide the proceeds with more or less equality. A thorough understanding among the confederates is, of course, absolutely essential. But this having been once attained, the advantages of the partnership are obviously very great. They convey to each other surreptitious information across the table as to the nature of their respective hands, so that only the one who has the better chance may “go in.” I have already explained how they may co-operate with one another through means of false shuffles and false cuts. They may also prove of material assistance to each other in holding out, and in various other ways, to such a degree that the verdant individual who supposes that he is enjoying a “fair show” for the amount of money he has wagered, is, as a matter of fact, absolutely at their mercy.

At the same time the members of such a dishonest firm have little confidence in one another, but watch each other as though they were enemies rather than confederates. Yet on one point they are at perfect harmony and act in absolute unison; that is, in the fleecing of greenhorns; and woe betide the unlucky wight who finds himself between the upper and nether mill-stones of such a combination.

Yet another device of the professional poker-player is known as the “Double discard.” The blackleg does not discard until after he has made a draft. He separates the cards which he wishes to discard from the four which he nominally proposes to retain, holding the former in his left hand and the latter in his right, ready for a fraudulent discard, in case he sees fit. Calling for four cards, he drops those which he has in his right hand immediately in front of him. Next, he lifts the draft with his left hand, the odd card of course coming on top; if now he finds in the draft one or more cards which he perceives will, with the aid of the four cards lying in front of him on the table, improve his chances, he retains that, and again discards the four cards. He then drops the one which he has retained, upon the four originally rejected, raises the hand, and of course is prepared to wager, with an approximate certainty of success.

These hands are more difficult to arrange than either “pairs” or “threes,” although an expert blackleg is soon able to reduce the art to a science.

The manner of setting up a “flush” differs from that of arranging a “full” or “fours.” In preparing flushes ten cards of any suit are first selected, and being placed face uppermost before the operator, are so arranged that the highest card shall be either the second, fourth, sixth, eighth or tenth in order. The ten cards are then put on the top of the deck, which the sharper takes in his left hand. He uses the fore-finger and thumb of his right hand in shuffling, placing the former on top and the latter underneath, and drawing one card from the top and one from the bottom at each “pull.” These he throws upon the table in pairs. The same tactics are repeated ten times, each two cards, as drawn off, being laid over the preceding pair. The rest of the cards are then similarly treated, but thrown on the table at a short distance from the twenty first drawn. The sharper then places the latter upon the larger half of the pack, and a false shuffle and false cut are made.

If the player sitting on the left of the blackleg happens to be the dealer, (and in no other case can the trick be successfully worked as here described), the professional who has arranged the cards will always receive the higher flush, and the player sitting at the dealer’s left, who is of course directly facing the blackleg, is bound to receive the smaller one.

The method of arranging “fulls” is very similar to that described above. The hands, however, are first made up singly, the highest threes being put in alternately as the second, third, fourth and sixth, counting from the top of the pack as it lies face uppermost before the operator. The latter then “strips” one card each from the top and bottom simultaneously, as in the preparation of the flush. The hands fall to the players in the same manner, the larger one falling to the dealer’s right and the smaller on his left.

In stocking the cards for a hand containing “four of a kind,” the hands are put up separately, the higher four being so arranged as to be second, fourth, sixth, and eighth, from the top of the pack as it faces the manipulator. The latter draws a card from the top and bottom at the same time, as in the arrangement of the “flushes” and “fulls,” but instead of drawing ten cards he pulls eight. The result in all three cases is precisely the same, that is, the larger hand will invariably fall to the player on the dealer’s right—(that is, the sharper)—and the smaller one to the individual facing him, who sits at the dealer’s left.

Of all the practices of a dishonest gambler at poker, “holding out” is perhaps the most frequently resorted to. It consists of abstracting one or more cards from the pack, which are secreted either about the person of the player, or beneath the table. It is most commonly employed upon the blackleg’s own deal. Several cards may be “held out,” provided that the number is not sufficient to attract notice by perceptibly diminishing the size of the pack. The object of course is that the sharper may have desirable cards ready to produce when a favorable opportunity offers. If the person to be deceived is especially verdant the cards withdrawn from the pack are sometimes concealed behind the collar, or under the joint of the knee or may be laid upon a handkerchief in the lap.

Professionals, however, usually prefer either the vest or the sleeve as a place of secreting them. Different sorts of apparatus are also employed to facilitate the operation; now-a-days nearly all professionals employ some one of the four mechanical contrivances which are described below.

I. The Bug.—This instrument is very simple in its construction, and although sold by dealers in “fake” goods, is often made by gamblers themselves. Its mechanism is shown in the accompanying cut. “B” represents a piece of watch spring which is fastened to the table by means of an awl “A” in such a way that the point may curl over. The awl is pressed into the under side of the table, just far enough from the edge to permit the placing of a card. The watch spring snaps up against the bottom. The method of using it is as follows: Some high card, for example, the king or an ace, is slipped under the bottom of the table, the watch spring holds it firmly in place. As soon as the party receives, in the regular course, a card, or perhaps a pair of the same denomination as the one which he has secreted in the “bug,” he puts his hand over the edge of the table, under which he puts his thumb, he then deftly raises the card which he has concealed, at the same time taking an inferior card from his hand and placing the latter in the “bug” instead of the one which he has taken out. It will be seen that he thus obtains a high pair, or possibly three high cards of the same denomination.

II. The Sleeve Hold Out.—This apparatus consists of a leather band, (lettered A in the illustration) fastened around the right arm, beneath the coat sleeve, near the elbow, to which is attached a spring, pressure upon which works a rod which connects with a plate (lettered B in the cut). The method of using this device is shown in the illustration. The cards which are “held out” are placed beneath the plate B, which holds them in position. When the player wishes to draw them from his sleeve, he presses his arm against his body, thus setting in operation the spring which works the rod and throws forward the concealed cards from behind the plate, as shown in the cut.

III. The Table Hold Out.—As are the three other contrivances above described, so is this a device for concealing cards abstracted from the pack during the progress of a game of poker. It differs from the others, however, in that it is permanently attached to the table, instead of being carried about by the player himself. The illustration shows the plan of its construction. A card may be seen protruding above the surface of the table, directly where the cloth covering joins the wooden border. This card is forced up through a concealed slit at the will of the gambler, by means of a hidden mechanism. The dotted line running from the slit to the foot of the table’s leg represents a wire which operates a spring whereby the card is forced upward, or lowered, through the slit, at the option of the manipulator. “A” is a point at which is inserted a small knob, or button, pressure upon which works the spring. By pressing with his foot at “B,” the player accomplishes the same result. The method of its use is as follows: The abstracted cards are placed in the slit, the player holding his hand of cards in front of it; they are then drawn down and retained beneath the table until the moment arrives when they are to be used. Pressure at either “A” or “B” forces them up, and the sharper takes them in his hand, at the same time discarding an equal number of cards from his hand into the slit.

IV. Vest Hold Out.—Some gamblers prefer this contrivance to any other, for the reason that it permits the holding out of an entire hand if the player so desires. The accompanying illustration shows the method in which it is worked. “A” indicates the location of that part of the mechanism which holds the abstracted cards; “B” is a piece of catgut attached to that part of the apparatus concealed beneath the vest, and running underneath the clothing to the heel, where it is fastened either to the shoe or the clothing. The cards selected to be “held out” are placed inside the clamp underneath the vest. When the player stretches out the leg along which runs the catgut, the plate inside the vest comes forward and the cards may be easily withdrawn; when the heel is drawn back beneath the chair the tension on the catgut is increased, and the clamp recedes behind the vest.

Of all the devices for defrauding at poker, the “shiner,” or “convex” is perhaps the most simple and the most effective. They are of various forms. At first a circular piece of silver highly polished and convex in form, about the size of a five-cent piece, was used. The player employing it places it on the table in front of him, using the utmost pains to conceal it from observation. The advantage resulting from its employment is its power of reflecting whatever is held above it at any angle, thus enabling the dealer who used it to read the face of each card as it was taken, face downward, from the pack. Of late years, however, the makers of these implements have greatly improved the process of manufacture. Looking glass has been substituted for silver, the reflection being much more brilliant. Modern convexes are also considerably larger than those of former days. Some players attach them to the knee, some to the thigh—as shown at point “C” in cut illustrating the “Vest Hold Out”—and some fasten them to the coat. In one description of the convexes, a slender bar is attached to the article at its end, a joint containing a spring being fastened to the other extremity of the bar. In using this contrivance the cheat places it on top of a few bank notes, and then with the other bills entirely conceals it from view. In dealing he apparently carelessly rests his hand upon the joint, in doing which he necessarily brings pressure to bear upon the spring; this in turn forces the convex to fly upward toward the dealer, and enables him to see the face of each card as it is dealt. Occasionally magnifying glasses, technically known as “reflectors,” are used. The blackleg places one of these on his lap, or attaches it to the table in such a way that he may cause it to drop by means of a spring. The forms of the “reflectors” are numerous, and no good purpose can be served by describing any further varieties. It may be observed, however, that new shapes are being constantly invented, as well as new contrivances to enable cheats to use them without detection.

I have seen a convex employed upon a Mississippi steamboat with remarkably confusing effect. Two professionals were each trying to take advantage of the other, supposing him to be an amateur. For a time neither gained any advantage. At length, one of the sharpers temporarily excused himself. Going to his state room, he returned with his “shiner.” Meantime his antagonist had arranged a “cold deck,” which he proceeded to “ring in” on his own deal, much to the betterment of his finances. Thus emboldened, he bet wildly on his adversary’sadversary’s deal, the result being that the caller recouped his losses, with interest.

Once at the Mound City Hotel, in St. Louis, I had succeeded in bringing two “skin” gamblers together. I had told each that I intended to “throw off” the other to him, consequently I felt certain of receiving my share of the winnings, no matter which of the pair succeeded in fleecing the other. One of them had prepared a table which he could take apart and carry with him. On the top of it was a box about a foot square, inside of which was a “shiner” made of looking-glass. Half of the side facing the operator was a slide which was raised, when occasion required, by means of a string which passed down the leg of the table to the foot. As the game progressed and the excitement increased, the foot of the operator accidentallyaccidentally slipped from the pedal. The result was that instead of the cover returning quietly to its place, it fell with a sharp click, which attracted the attention of his opponent, who quickly springing to his feet ran around the table and asked, “what’s that?” and then realizing its meaning, laughingly remarked: “Say, the tail piece of your wagon just fell out. What’s that dog-house you’ve got on the table, anyway?”

This is a device practiced by professional gamblers with great success. In order to play the “second” effectively, the operator trims the thumb nail on his left hand to a fine point, as shown in the accompanying cut at letter “A.” Sometimes, instead of trimming his nail he attaches to the ball of the thumb, by means of a small piece of kid and a little shoemaker’s wax, a fine needle point, lettered “B” in the illustration. As the game progresses, he gradually pricks the aces and kings on the face in the left hand corner of each, which, when they are turned over, becomes of course, the right hand corner. The cards are dealt from the end, the dealer seizing them by the corner with the thumb of the right hand. When one of the pricked cards is felt, the dealer slips it back and deals from under it until he comes to himself, when he secures it for his own hand, thus gradually obtaining a pair of aces or kings, sometimes two pairs, and occasionally three of a kind. When this trick is successfully performed, the professional is usually able to “clean out” a greenhorn with the utmost ease and dispatch. It is a favorite mode of swindling at poker, inasmuch as it requires no partner, no stocking of cards, and admits of their being fairly shuffled.

By the word “telegraph” as employed in gamblers’ parlance, is by no means meant the ordinary electric wire through which are transmitted messages upon which depend not only men’s safety and lives, but even the welfare of nations and the peace of the civilized world. The gamblers‘ “telegraph” is used for entirely different purposes. It consists of a wire running from a poker table to some point of vantage, usually behind a “peep-hole,” by means of which one confederate advises another when to bet. Of course collusion between two is essential. The man at the peep-hole, which is not infrequently in an upper room, sees through the aid of a magnifying glass the hands of all the players. He controls one end of the wire, the other extremity of which is attached to the clothing of his partner. A pre-arranged system of signals conveys to the latter all the information necessary to enable him to place a wager with the absolute certainty of winning. On its face this species of fraud appears so disreputable that the average reader will question whether the device may not have originated in the author’s brain. Alas, for human nature! The telegraph is an actual fact, no less deplorable because its existence is assured. The number of saloons which employ it is “legion,” and it may sometimes be found in places which would be considered most unlikely. The only safe plan to be pursued is never, under any circumstances, to sit down to a game of poker, no matter how trifling the ante.

Reference is made elsewhere to the advantage taken by professional gamblers and confidence men of the cupidity, venality and dishonesty of a certain class of “suckers.” It is not an uncommon experience with black-legs to be invited by some man of good repute in the community in which he resides, to visit the town with a view to fleecing some moneyed friend of the latter individual, the gain accruing from the execution of the rascally enterprise to be equally divided between the confederate scoundrels. This is known in gambler’s slang as “throwing off a sucker.”

Under the present title will be explained one of the most effective methods by which the scheme is executed. The author can best illustrate it by recounting a bit of his own experience:

In a certain western town once resided a man whom we may call Mr. X—--, who had an intimate friend—a man of some means—who will be referred to in this connection as Mr. Y——. Mr. X—— conceived the idea of winning some money from his friend, and appealed to me to assist him in the enterprise. At that period of my life I was little troubled with qualms of conscience, and I lent a willing ear to the suggestion. I went to the city in question, and in due course was introduced to Mr. Y—— by Mr. X—— as a verdant sort of an individual, almost too green to be attractive to a bovine quadruped, but with plenty of money. Mr. X—— proposed to his friend that they should engage me in a little game of “draw;” that he, Y——, should sit behind me and “tip off” my hand, a knowledge of which was certain to enable X—— to win all my cash. Mr. Y—— was nothing loth, and readily consented to become a party to a transaction which was, on its face, a bold scheme of fraud. Undoubtedly he was a “sucker,” but it is a question whether sympathy would not be wasted upon him.

The plan worked admirably. X—— and myself met at a pre-arranged “trysting-place,” and sat down to play poker. Y—— dropped in and took a seat where he could over-look my hand. A “cold deck” had been prepared—need I say by whom?—and after I had lost a few trifling stakes X—— proceeded to “ring it in” on me, in accordance with his previous understanding. Regarding the operation from a “professional” standpoint, I may say that I never saw a trick more clumsily performed. Had I been, as Y—— supposed, a mere tyro, I could hardly have failed to detect it, so bunglingly was it done. However, I preserved a stolid demeanor, and proceeded to examine my hand. I found a pair of queens with three nines. Mr. X—— had a “full”—three jacks and a pair of tens. Of course this latter was a strong hand. He bet; I promptly “raised” him one thousand dollars, putting the money on the table. Naturally, he professed to regard my “raise” as a mere “bluff,” and asked his friend, Y——, to lend him enough money to “see” me. Y—— rose from his chair, and, walking around the table, looked at X——’s hand. Seeing a “full house,” with jacks at the head, as against a smaller one, “nine full,” he willingly loaned the money. With a tolerable simulation of tremulous excitement, Mr. X—— contrived to display his cards. I promptly called for two cards, discarding a like number, and received, as I knew I should, two queens, thus securing “four of a kind,” which always wins against a “full.” The reader who has perused the explanation of the fair game, as given above, will, of course, perceive that in his intense anxiety to win a dishonest $500, Mr. Y—— had overlooked my right to “draw,” although he was satisfied that on the hand which he had seen me hold, I was morally certain to be content with the cards which I had. Yet, cupidity often over-reaches itself in a similar way.

Of course I won and pocketed the stakes, although, in justice to myself, I may add that I divided my winnings fairly with Mr. X——, who received exactly one-half of the money out of which his friend had been cheated.

If the inexperienced, unsophisticated reader will carefully peruse the foregoing paragraphs, he will have but little difficulty in reaching the conclusion that playing poker is about as hazardous as “encountering the tiger in his lair.”

Another variety of poker in great favor among the gambling fraternity is called “stud poker,” a stud poker table being now considered a necessary adjunct to every first-class gambling house. The necessary outfit for the game consists of checks, cards and a table large enough to seat 10 or 12 persons. Regular dealers are employed and usually four or five “pluggers” (by which term are designated men who play for the house and with money belonging to the proprietors). The game is very simple, and any one acquainted with the value of draw poker can play, and lose his money as easily and rapidly as he could possibly desire. The game may be illustrated as follows: Suppose four persons, whom we will designate as A, B, C and D, sit down to play. In some games, in fact usually, each player puts up one check as an ante. This having been done, the dealer deals the first card, face downward, to each player, beginning with the one who sits immediately on his (the dealer’s) left; another card is then dealt around with the face exposed, as must also be the other three cards in case a hand of five is dealt. Let us suppose that A’s exposed card is an ace, B’s a queen, C’s a nine spot, and D’s a ten. It is then A’s first bet because he has the highest card in sight. He can wager any amount he chooses, and the others can throw away their cards or “stay in,” by putting up an equal stake to that of A’s. If B, C and D should throw down their cards, the checks in the “pot” belong to A, and the dealer shuffling, begins another deal. Should either B, C or D “see” A’s bet or “raise” him, the dealer, deals off another card, face upward, when the player who has the highest cards in sight, has another opportunity to “pass” or bet, while the others have the choice of throwing away their cards or “seeing” the bet, and so on until five cards are dealt, when the players must guess at each other’s buried card, or “hole card” as it is technically called.

Sometimes at stud poker an instrument known as “The Buck” is used. This is employed where all the players do not “ante.” Any article may be used for this purpose. Sometimes an ivory chip with a string running through it; sometimes a circular piece of leather, its material and form are unimportant. It passes in rotation, one to another, the player in front of whom it is placed being required to “ante” a chip and receiving the first card dealt. The game then proceeds as already described. The chances for “crooked work” at this game are legion. In a word nearly every fraudulent device employed in “draw” poker may be utilized in “stud” poker. “Stocking,” “palming,” “holding out,” “false cuts,” “paper,” “partnerships,” etc., etc., are just as useful in one case as in the other.

The vicissitudes of the life of a professional gambler are numerous and shifting, and perhaps the ups and downs of a poker player’s career are as varying as those which attend the checkered experience of any other description of gambler.

I remember some rather startling experiences of my own in this direction. I was once traveling in partnership with a man named Enyert. At a town in Missouri we fell in with a mule-buyer named Brown. Enyert was cursed with one of the most violent tempers that falls to the lot of man. So also was Brown. Both of them were known as “dangerous” men, i. e., ready with the pistol. I was dealing marked cards and my knowledge of Brown’s character made me extremely nervous. I knew that if he detected any cheating my life would be exacted as a forfeit. An expert marked card player always needs his wits, and my nervousness prevented me from using mine. On the other hand, I knew that if my partner (Enyert) did not win he would accuse me of “throwing him off” to Brown, i. e., of playing in collusion with the latter, in which case I was quite as likely to be shot by him. To use a slang expression, I was too badly “rattled” to be of any use as a dealer and brought the game to a close as soon as possible.

This man Enyert shot the son of the Mayor of Ottumwa, familiarly known as “Billy” Orr, and would, on one occasion, have carved up my anatomy with a bowie knife, had I not dissuaded him by showing him the muzzle of a six-chambered navy revolver. Brown’s son inherited his father’s disposition. Having some trouble with his wife’s parents, he emptied both barrels of a shotgun into them, killing Dr. Parish, his father-in-law, and seriously wounding the Doctor’s wife. He was tried, convicted, and sentenced to be hanged. His wife visited him in his cell and contrived to convey to him, secretly, a dose of poison. They mutually agreed to end their lives at an appointed time. The hour fixed fell in the night preceding his execution. When it arrived the woman blew out her brains with a pistol, but Brown lacked the physical courage to carry out his part of the contract, and was publicly hanged on the following day after making an impassioned appeal to the crowd in behalf of his son. He and his devoted wife were buried in the same grave.

I was once playing marked cards with a Boston “drummer,” whose name need not be mentioned. At the time I had a partner. I had instructed the traveling man in the art of reading the cards by their backs and proposed to him that I would “throw off” a “sucker” to him. He assented, and I introduced my partner. We practised the same game which we had worked together many times before. I began to “hold out” cards and did it so clumsily that any one might detect it. My partner waxed furious at the fraud and I was promptly “barred out,” leaving the drummer and my confederate to play single handed, which was precisely what we wanted. The commercial traveler rose from the table a loser to the amount of $400. I condoled with him; and inasmuch as we were supposed to be acting in unison probably I ought to have stood half the loss but I still owe him my share.

One more narrative of my experience with marked cards, and I have done. While traveling in partnership with a man named Sam Martin, whom I have mentioned in my autobiography, we were going down the Mississippi in a steamboat. Martin had placed a number of packs of marked cards with the bar-keeper, with instructions to “ring them in,” that is, to sell them to customers asking for playing cards. We wandered about the boat, separately, looking for victims. At length I formed the acquaintance of a tall, handsome man, who suggested a game of euchre for the cigars. We had not played long when the stranger proposed poker for a small ante. I said that I was not accustomed to playing for money, but that if he would promise not to expose me if I lost I would chance a few dollars. Martin was in the cabin waiting for me to give him a signal to approach. On receiving it he drew near the table and I accosted him with: “Well, stranger, will you join us in a game for a small ante?” He answered that he would if my friend had no objections, although it was near his bed time. We played a few games and quit losers. We knew that our “mark” was going to Memphis, and that we would have an abundance of time in which to win our money back. The next morning we resumed play. I lost fifty dollars (which of course was won by Martin), and said that I would have to withdraw from the game unless they would consent to place stakes against a draft. [In those days I always traveled with a liberal supply of worthless checks.checks.] I left the table and Martin and the stranger (who gave his name as Walton) played single-handed, which was precisely what the former wanted. They were using the marked cards which my partner had placed with the bar-keeper. It was not long before Martin had won all the stranger’s money—some $800—besides a valuable gold watch and chain. At the conclusion of the game the winner invited his dupe to take a drink at the bar, which invitation was accepted. As they were drinking Walton looked at Martin and said: “You are a very lucky man. I believe that you might fall overboard without getting wet, and I certainly should expect to see your body floating up stream. You have all my money, and I don’t mind telling you, now, that I was cheating all the time. I was ‘holding out’ and playing the ‘double discard’ from the beginning, and I don’t see how you managed to come out ahead.” “Well,” said Martin, “since you have been so frank I will be equally so. I am an expert marked-card player, and each pack that we played with was one of mine. I knew that you were cheating, but didn’t care. My ‘percentage’ was too strong for you. Here is your watch and chain and fifty dollars for a ‘stake.’ But I can tell you right here that you won’t ever have any show against an artist who can read your hand at sight, and remember it.” And there is no doubt that “Sam” was right. Yet if an accomplished card sharp like Walton can be thus taken in, even while practicing his professional tricks, what possible chance remains to a greenhorn?

The name “short” games is applied among gamblers to those which require comparatively little time in which to determine the issue of the hazard. In the present chapter, those best known and most commonly played in gaming houses will be described and the methods of trickery employed by those who conduct them will be pointed out.

Chief among games of this description are “rouge et noir,” “roulette,” “keno” and “rolling faro.” These will be taken up in the order indicated.

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As played in this country, this game differs materially from the mode of playing in vogue on the continent of Europe. In foreign gaming houses—particularly at the more famous resorts, such as Monte Carlo or Baden-Baden—the game is probably conducted fairly. In other words, the proprietors are satisfied with the revenue which they can derive from the legitimate percentage which accrues in their favor under the operation of the ordinary laws of chance. In this country, however, not only is the method of play vastly simplified, but it has degenerated into a mere scheme of robbery. The players are utterly at the mercy of the manipulators of the machine.

The game is always played with the adjunct of a “lay-out,” which is depicted in the accompanying cut. The outer line, as shown in the illustration, represents the outer edge of the table, which is covered with a green cloth. The middle line serves no special purpose, but adds one more striking feature to the device. The inner line serves to mark off that portion of the table on which are depicted the representation of the four jacks found in every pack of cards. At the two ends of the table and on the right hand side are blank spaces. Those at the ends are colored—the one at the top red, the one at the bottom black. The space on the right hand side is for the placing of wagers.

Any number of persons may play.

Bets may be made in either one of the four ways—on the red; on the black; on either jack, or on any one of the four jacks. In the two cases first mentioned the bettor places his wager on the color which he selects. If he wishes to bet on any particular jack (that of hearts, clubs, diamonds or spades), he lays his money on that one which he chooses. If he prefers to bet that some jack (without indicating which) will win, he lays his venture upon the blank space at the right hand side of the table, as shown in the diagram.

If he bets on the winning color, the bank pays him an amount equal to the sum staked, which latter, of course, he receives back. If he selects a particular jack and the one on which he has placed his wager happens to win, his stake is returned to him, together with an increment of ten times the amount. If he places his wager on the blank space to the right he is understood to have bet that some one of the four jacks will win, and if his hazard prove successful, his gains are measured by a sum twice that of his original bet.

The bets having all been made and placed, the play commences. The banker places a full pack (fifty-two cards) in a dealing box, similar to those used in playing “faro,” which have been already described, but with this variation: In “faro” the cards are inserted and dealt face uppermost, the opening being large enough to afford a clear view of the card; in rouge et noir they are inserted and dealt face downward, and the apertureaperture in the box is only large enough to permit the dealer to run them off readily with the index and second fingers of the left hand.

The first two cards, after being withdrawn from the box, are laid upon the table, faces downward, and the third is turned over. This constitutes a “run,” and the gains or losses of the players are determined by the color (and sometimes the denomination) of the third card. If it happens to be red the bank pays all bets placed on the space at the upper end of the table, marked “red,” and gathers in all other wagers placed upon the table. If it chance to be a jack, and any player has placed his money on the representation of that particular jack upon the “lay-out,” the fortunate individual wins ten times the amount which he ventured. If a player has bet upon “jacks,” without naming any particular one—placing his money in the space at the right hand side of the table—and a jack of any suit is turned up, he is given, as his winnings, double the amount of his wager.

On the other hand, if the bettor has laid his stake either upon “jacks” or on any particular jack, and no jack turns up, he loses.

Even when fairly played, the chances in favor of the bank are large enough to satisfy any banker whose greed for gain is not abnormal. But as in all other games, the rapacious sharks who operate it are not satisfied with even the most extraordinary percentage of chances. What they seek is absolute certainty, and in the game of rouge et noir, as conducted even in so-called “square” houses, they have contrived to secure it.

In dealing the cards, resort is had to many of the same tortuous devices which are employed in “faro,” an explanation of which may be found in the chapter devoted to that game.

“Faked” boxes, similar in construction to those used in “faro,” are employed, and the cards are “stripped” and “sanded” as in that game. The “strippers,” however, are arranged on a somewhat different principle. The red and black cards having been separated so that the pack shall be divided into two lots, one-half being red and the other black, the narrower ends of the two colors are placed opposite each other. The dealer then takes the red cards in one hand and the black in the other. Through long practice he is able to put the two packs of cards together in such a way that a card of one color shall rest directly upon a card of the opposite color all the way through the pack. The cards are then pressed together, so that the entire pack shall lie, one card upon the other. The reader will perceive that, owing to the use of the “strippers,” the end of each card is a trifle narrower than the end of the one directly above it. The manipulation of the pack in the box is practiced in the same way as has been already explained under “faro.” The result of this arrangement of cards is that the dealer knows perfectly well the color of the card under his hand at any given moment. If he considers it worth his while to change the color before exposing the card to the view of the players, the “sanding” and “stripping” of the cards, in connection with the “faked” box, enables him to draw two cards instead of one through the aperture, thus reversing the run of the colors.

The usual method in which bets are made upon this game is as follows:

A player having laid a wager on either the black or red, and having lost, naturally supposes that if he suffers his money to lie upon the table long enough, the color on which he has made his bet must win before the entire pack shall have been run out of the box. Accordingly, if he has a wager of one dollar on the black and the first run shows that he has lost, he doubles his stake and awaits the result of the second run. If he finds he has lost again, he doubles his stake once more, and continues playing in this manner until the entire pack has been run out of the box. If he is a loser when all the cards have been dealt, he may, if he choose, continue to double his stake as long as his funds will permit.

The reader can scarcely fail to perceive how soon this sort of play will bankrupt the unsophisticated gamester. Every time he doubles his stake he is offering the bank enormous odds. It requires a very short time, for a bet of one dollar under such circumstances, to run up to a wager of $128, $256, $512, etc. As a matter of fact, the player, under such circumstances, is offering the bank odds amounting, sometimes $4,000 to one. Thus, if a player starts in, with a wager of one dollar, and continues to double it as he loses until he has risked $100,000 or more, he is still actually betting that enormous sum that he will eventually win the trifling sum of one dollar. If he should continue to play for seventy-two consecutive hours on the same principle, and the doubling of his stake run up into the millions, all that he could possibly hope to win at the close of the play would be a dollar.

But there is another device known to the manipulators of this game which is even a more bare-faced robbery than the use of “strippers” and “faked” boxes. When a “soft mark” is playing at the table and has repeatedly doubled his stake, and begins to see the bottom of the pile of money which he has brought with him, he very frequently asks the dealer how long he will be permitted this mode of play. The dealer, after estimating in his own mind the amount of money which the dupe may have in his possession, tells him that the doubling must quit on either the second or third run. As soon as the proprietors are satisfied that the unfortunate victim has staked his all, the dealer turns a jack, and remarks that “this is the only percentage that the bank has,” whereupon he at once gathers in the player’s entire stake without any sign of shame or compunction of conscience. Should the player manifest any unwillingness to continue doubling his wager, the banker informs him that if he loses at the end, his money will be returned to him, less five per cent. Relying upon this assurance, and always hoping that his luck will turn, the poor fool keeps on, only to be confronted at the end by the turning of a jack and to be assured that this entire venture has been incontinently swept away.

“Steerers” or “ropers” are invariably employed by the proprietors of this game. Their duty is to select victims and guide them into the resort where this knavery is carried on. They are paid the usual percentage allowed “cappers;” that is, forty-five per cent, of the bank’s winnings from the dupe whom they may allure.

While a rouge et noirnoir table is considered a necessary adjunct to the outfit of every American gaming house, the game is not so popular in this country as in Europe nor is the method of play precisely the same in both continents. An explanation of the devices used in the old world may be found in Part I.

Roulette, as will be seen from the illustration, is played upon a table in the form of an oblong square, covered with green cloth, at one end of which is a round cavity, around the sides of which, equi-distant one from the other, are arranged several metal bands—usually of copper—which, commencing at the top, descend to the extremity of the machine. The cavity is movable, and in its centre is a circular bottom containing thirty-nine holes to which the bands are attached, and upon which are painted, alternately, in black and red, thirty-six numbers, running from 1 to 36, besides (0), a (00), and a picture of an eagle or the word itself printed thereon. In the middle of the cavity, are three or four little metal prongs, centering at “D,” which are used in imparting a rotary motion to the bottom. The revolution of the ball is checked by slender metal plates (indicated on the diagram by the letter “B”) about two inches in length and rising about one-quarter of an inch above the lower surface.

The remainder of the table is laid out as shown in the cut. The figures are arranged in three columns, and above them in two divisions nearest the Roulette wheel, are single and double 00 respectively. The figures are painted black or red, to agree with the corresponding color of the numbers on the wheel. At the head of each column there is a compartment for placing a stake which is made on the column. On each side of the foot of the columns of figures are three spaces, each of which contains the number twelve. These are known, respectively, as the 1st, 2nd and 3rd twelves. Stakes placed on the first space are considered to be bets on the numbers 1 to 12; the second space is for bets on numbers 13 to 24; the third space for numbers 25 to 36, all inclusive.

The space on either side of the entire length of the columns is divided into three parts. The upper left hand division is for bets on numbers 1 to 18; the corresponding right hand division is for numbers 19 to 36. The large division in the middle of the left hand side, lettered “B” in the illustration, is for bets on the black; the similar one upon the right, marked “R,”“R,” is for wagers on the red.

The lower division on the left hand is for bets on even numbers; the division opposite on the right is for odd numbers.

There is a banker and several assistants; an unlimited number of persons may play.

One of the assistants sets the machine in motion, at the same instant throwing an ivory ball into the cavity in the opposite direction to the movement which he has given to the movable bottom. The ball makes several revolutions with great rapidity until its momentum being exhausted, it falls into one of the thirty-nine holes formed by the copper bands. It is the hole into which the ball falls that determines the gain or loss of the numerous chances which this game affords to players.

If the reader will examine the cut showing the lay-out, he will perceive that there are numerous chances to be played for: Single and double (0); the “eagle;” black and red; the three columns; the first and last halfhalf of the numbers, respectively, consists of 1 to 18, and 19 to 36 inclusive; the three 12’s, consist of 1 to 12, 13 to 24 and 25 to 36; odds and even; and lastly, the numbers, either single or in small groups.

Stakes bet on black or red; the first or last half of the numbers; also on odd and even, are called single stakes. Stakes on either of the three 12’s, or on either of the three columns, win double the amount. Stakes on any single number, or on either of the (0’s), or the eagle, are paid thirty-five times their amount if they are successful.

Bets may be made on groups of not over six consecutive numbers, and win as many times the amount of the stakes as the grouping is contained in thirty-four, omitting all fractions; so that a bet on any four designated consecutive numbers would win eight times the amount of the stake, provided any one of these numbers comes out.

It has already been stated that the space occupied by thirty-six numbers are all either red or black; and as the numbers are equally divided between the colors eighteen to each, a stake on either color is a single bet. The 0’s and the eagle are painted green, and if a zero or eagle turns up, bets on either black or red are lost by the players.

It is only of late years that the majority of roulette wheels contain a picture of an eagle, a similar picture being painted upon the cloth. Bets on the eagle, if won by the player, are paid in the ratio of 35 to 1.

The legitimate percentage of chances in favor of the bank in this game is enormous. Out of thirty nine chances, the bank runs eighteen of losing and has twenty-one of winning, or three additional chances in its favor, which is equivalent to fully 5½ per cent. in favor of the bank in all cases, even where a bet is placed upon either of the zeros or the eagle. In the latter case, the bet on either zero or on the eagle is paid 35 to 1, the same as on any single number.

Here the bank has thirty-five chances out of thirty-nine of winning, and only one of losing, or four more chances in its favor than the payments warrant, thus yielding the same 5½ per cent.

It follows that the odds against the players in the various chances may be expressed as follows:

Upon a single number,	37	to 1
Upon any twelve numbers,	13	to 6
Upon two numbers,	18	to 1
Upon three numbers,	11?	to 1
Upon four numbers,	17	to 2
Upon six numbers,	16	to 3
Upon odd or even, red or black,	10	to 9

In the case of a bet on the first or last eighteen numbers, the odds are ten to nine, the same as on odd or even, or red or black.

When, however, a stake is laid on all the numbers, and the bank only pays the winner thirty-five times his stake, it clears four; thus, supposing thirty-nine dollars to be a stake, and that the ball is thrown twice in a minute, the gain of the bank, without incurring the slightest risk, would be eight dollars per minute, or $480 per hour. Although, in whatever way a player may bet, the chances are always in favor of the bank, still the latter’s risk varies in proportion to the number of chances which are not filled up. To illustrate, if only ten numbers are filled, and the ball were to enter one of them, the bank would, in that case, lose thirty-four dollars, and only win eight; whereas, when all the numbers are filled, it wins four without risking a cent.

From what has been said, as to the chances in favor of the bank, it would seem to be hardly necessary to use any additional means of swindling, inasmuch as the percentage in its favor is so large that the game is very seldom beaten, even if “played on the square.” An old gambler once remarked in my presence, that the percentage of the game was forty per cent. worse than stealing. However, despite this fact, the gambler is not satisfied, and has succeeded in devising schemes, whereby he may win every bet made against him, if he sees fit.

The first method of cheating which I will describe, is as follows: The roulette is manufactured for the purpose, the machinery being entirely concealed from view. The gambler who manages the game can cause the ball (A) to fall in a red or black number, as he may think proper. After throwing the ball he watches it closely, and if it should fall in the red, when he wished it to go into the black, while still revolving, its course can be quickly changed to the desired color. This is accomplished by means of a lever attached to the circular wheel, and connecting with one of the legs of the roulette. This leg has the same appearance as others, but is a trifle shorter, not quite touching the table on which the roulette rests. The gambler has only to touch this leg while the wheel is revolving, and in a second the ball is changed from one color to another, as he may prefer. In fact, so quickly can the ball be changed, that it is difficult to detect the motion after one has been shown how it is managed, unless the wheel is turned slowly. This is one of the most ingenious contrivances in use.

There is yet another kind of roulette, which is made in the following manner: One-half of the small pieces of metal which form the pockets for the ball are made a trifle longer than the others, lettered on the diagram E E E. After the stakes have been placed, if the proprietor wishes the ball to fall in a red color, it is necessary for him merely to throw the ball around to the right hand, and if he wishes it to fall in the black, he casts the ball toward the left. The players may observe that he throws the ball in a different direction on different occasions, but the action appears to be so trivial that it excites no suspicion.

Another fraudulent contrivance used in playing this game consists in the gambler’s having two centers to a wheel, apparently identical, one of which, however, is “square” and the other “faked.” This device is known to the members of “the profession” as the “double center.” The “square” wheel is used at first, and, at an opportune moment, the “fake” is substituted, after which the sharper has everything his own way. This wheel is operated on very much the same principle as the “needle wheel,” for the construction of which the reader is referred to the chapter containing a description of that device. A system of levers radiating from the centre of the apparatus is operated by a rod terminating at the edge of the table. By bringing to bear the requisite pressure, these levers cause fine needle points (lettered C C C on the diagram) to rise through the cloth, one coming up in front of each alternate compartment on the rim, thus obstructing the entry of the ball and causing its course to be so changed that it shall fall into one of the next adjacent divisions, as in the case of the “needle wheel” above referred to.

It is easily perceived that the players can have no possible chance when playing against such roulettes as these, and there is a large number of them in use all over the country.

This game is a favorite one with nearly all non-professional gamblers, not only because the risk of loss involved is not large, but also because of the popular impression that it is always played “on the square.” As a matter of fact, it usually is conducted fairly, although, as will be explained, sometimes bare-faced swindling is resorted to by the proprietors.

The game very closely resembles the children’s pastime of “lotto.” Any number of persons may play. Each one desiring to participate in the game buys a card on which are three horizontal rows of five numbers each, arranged altogether without regularity. The price paid for a card is commonly twenty-five cents, although sometimes the stakes are considerably higher. None of the cards contain a higher number than ninety-nine. The conductor of the game—who is known as the “roller”—takes his position, usually upon a raised platform, in full view of the players. Before him is placed a globe containing ninety-nine balls, numbered consecutively from one to ninety-nine, to correspond with the figures on the players’ cards. The balls having been thoroughly mixed, the “roller” presses a spring at the bottom of the globe, opening an aperture just large enough to permit one ball to drop at a time. As soon as the first one has fallen, the aperture is closed and the “roller,” in a loud voice, calls out the number inscribed upon it. If a player finds the number in either of the three horizontal rows on his card he places a button over it. When any player has all five, numbers in any one of his rows thus called out, he exclaims “keno,” after which the “roller” takes no more balls from the globe. His card is then inspected by one of the “collectors”—of whom there are usually two—and if his tally is correct he is given the entire amount of money paid by all the players (which is called “the pot”) less a discount of fifteen per cent., which is retained by “the house” as its “percentage.” Thus, if there are a hundred players, each of whom has paid twenty-five cents for a card, the winner receives twenty-one dollars and twenty-five cents, the bank reserving to itself three dollars and seventy-five cents as “percentage.”

Matters having been thus arranged, fresh stakes are advanced by those wishing to play again, the balls put in the globe and the game is resumed.

It may be readily seen that the “bank” incurs no risk whatever, and its sure percentage on the stakes is large enough to satisfy the cupidity of most gamblers. Fortunes have been won by the proprietors of these games, one concern alone in St. Louis having made $190,000 thereby. Still, the instinct to cheat is strong in the breast of the professional sharper; and sometimes a confederate of the proprietor plays in the game and wins the “pot,” through the co-operation of the “roller.” The latter withholds from the globe several balls, which he substitutes, from time to time, for the ones which he should have taken from the globe. The numbers on these withheld and substituted balls correspond to those necessary to fill out one of the horizontal rows on the confederate’s card and the latter is thus enabled toto win through fraud.

This game is similar in its general principles to those of the “squeeze spindle,” “needle wheel,” and “corona,” which have already been described. It is a favorite game upon fair-grounds, as are the others, but it is frequently found in resorts which are known as “first-class” gambling houses. There is scarcely a “hell” in the city of Chicago in which this apparatus cannot be found. This circumstance, in itself, affords a striking commentary upon the principles which underlie the management of what the uninitiated are wont to call “square houses.”

The accompanying cut shows the device used in playing the game, not only as it appears to the outsider, but also with the “fake” element exposed. A circular ring of wood, about three inches broad, is attached to a square board which is placed upon a table. At four points in the ring, equi-distant from each other, are the painted representations of four jacks. Between each pair of jacks are eight blank spaces, each one of which is usually numbered, the numbers running from one to thirty-two, consecutively. Sometimes ordinary playing cards are substituted for the numbers. Each of the four blocks of numbers is painted a distinct and separate color. In the centre of the inner circle is placed a metal arrow, having a pointed quill attached to the smaller end, the whole swinging upon a central pivot. Prices are placed at intervals upon the numbered squares. When the game is played at gambling houses, the only prizes offered are sums of money, varying in amount, and between these the numbers are left blank. When the device is operated upon a fair-ground, there are no blanks, articles of jewelry of trifling value being placed between the money prizes.

The mode of play is usually different upon fair-grounds from that which is followed in the regular gaming houses. In the former case, players pay twenty-five cents each for the privilege of swinging the arrow, and take the prize opposite the quill point when it stops revolving. At regular gaming houses players place their stakes upon whatever number or color they may select, and if they win the bank pays them the amount due them. The bets may be made either upon any one of the four jacks or on either of the four colors. If the player stakes his money upon a jack and wins, the proprietor pays him ten times the amount of his stake. If he lays his wager upon any given color,—if he is playing upon a fair-ground,—he receives simply his original stake, together with an equal sum. If, however, he is playing in a house, and names the lucky color, he receives two for one.

The chances having been bought or the bets laid, some one—either one of the players, or the proprietor, or a bystander—sets the arrow in motion. When the pointer comes to rest, if any player has laid his bet upon the number at which it stops, he receives either the prize thereon placed or the amount of his winnings in cash.

The “fake” element, as has been said, is shown in the illustration. There is a wire rod running from points B and C to the central pivot. As in the “squeeze spindle,” they are sunk into the table and concealed by the cloth covering. That which runs to point B is manipulated by pressure with the hand; that which terminates at point C is operated by pressure from the hip. When the operator pushes against either of these rods, he checks the revolution of the arrow by creating friction at the pivot, and brings the pointer to a standstill at any part of the circle which he may desire.

Very little reflection is necessary to show the reader how great is the legitimate percentage in favor of the bank, even were this game played without any resort to trickery. There are four colors and four jacks upon which a player may bet. It follows that the odds are seven to one in favor of the house against any individual player naming the winning color or card. And when to this percentage against the players there is added the absolute certainty of winning which the bank gains through the operation of the fraudulent device above explained, it is apparent that no one can possibly win except through the consent of the proprietor of the machine.

A rather striking illustration of the utter lack of good faith which characterizes gamblers in their dealings with one another, and their general moral perversity is furnished in the following narrative, for the truth of which the author vouches. Two itinerantitinerant sharpers, each with a rolling faro outfit were traveling on a Missouri river steamboat. The year was 18—, and the season was autumn, when county fairs were at full blast and men of that ilk were reaping a rich harvest. Both men were destined for the same point, and each had been anxious to secure a monopoly of the “privilege” of running his machine at the fair in question. One of them discovered that his business rival had forestalled him, and that—to use a colloquialismcolloquialism—“his cake was dough.” The gambler who had succeeded in obtaining his license retired early, serenely confident that the following day would witness not only the discomfiture of his rival but also his own success. But he had reckoned without his host. Scarcely had he fallen asleep before the form of his wily antagonist might have been seen prowling among the freight upon the main deck. Stealthily he moved in and out among the piles of stuff until he discovered the wheel of the licensed monopolist. Then followed a dull, grating sound, as of some one drawing a heavy box across a floor; then came a sudden splash, and to this succeeded silence. The gambling machine of the enterprising gamester who had secured the license, had sunk beneath the waters of the Mississippi, to be seen no more by mortal eyes. The next morning there was a brief season of pandemonium. The situation, however, was simple. There was but one fair, one license and one outfit, yet there were two gamblers. One of them had a license, but no paraphernalia; the other had paraphernalia, but no license. There was but one solution; the two found themselves compelled to “pool their issues.” In other words, the man who had thrown his rival’s wheel overboard forced the man who had owned it to divide his profits with him in consideration of being permitted to use the only wheel available.

The author was himself present at the fair where these two men operated the wheel to which reference has been made. On the way back a fearful scene was witnessed. A quarrel over “privileges” had arisen on the grounds and was continued on the boat. A gambler familiarly known as “Curley” the hog driver, a bulldozer, when heated by passion and liquor, was raising a terrible disturbance when another sporting man, Sherman Thirston, interfered to restrain him from mischief. “Curley” drew his revolver and fired three shots at Thirston, one breaking a spittoon which he held in front of him, and one grazing Lone Wolf’s forehead. Thirston advanced upon “Curley” and disarmed him.

This game derives its name from the fact that balls are used instead of cards, and that bets may be “raised” as in poker. In fact, “bluff” is resorted to in both games in about the same ratio. The method of play is exceedingly simple. All that is necessary is a cloth-covered table (usually about six feet long by three and one-half feet broad), a leather bottle, one hundred wooden or ivory balls, numbered from one to one hundred consecutively, and some “chips.” The latter are sold to the players by the proprietor at five or ten cents each. Those wishing to indulge in the game put down their “ante,” as in straight or draw poker. The “ante” is usually one chip. The person conducting the game then takes the bottle, in which the balls have been placed, in his hand, and throws them from its open mouth, one to each player. The latter then examine the little spheres which they have received and either forfeit the chips which they have already laid down or make their bets in the same manner as in playing poker. Precisely the same tactics are employed in both games. When the “call” is made the player holding the ball on which is inscribed the highest number wins the bet, by which is meant all the stakes which have been placed upon the table.

This is a favorite game in many gambling houses, especially those of an inferior class. The “house” always takes a percentage, or “rake-off,” as it is frequently called. This percentage consists of either one or two chips, as may be agreed upon. It follows that the proprietors run no risk, being absolutely certain of winning something each time that the balls are thrown. In “skin” gambling houses, however, the owners are not content with this percentage of profit. A “capper” is called into the game, who usually sits at the end of the table toward the banker’s left hand. The latter finds it necessary to be very cautious in collecting the balls from the players, lest some one who had received a high number might withhold it in order to bet upon it on the next throw. Accordingly, he examines each ball as it is returned to him. This affords him ample opportunity for holding out some high number in his hand, which he throws to his confederate the next time, thereby enabling him to bet with approximate certainty of winning everything in sight. These cappers are commonly known as “pluggers,” and are paid a stated per diem, being looked upon as regular employes.

The game, sometimes called Old Sledge and Seven-Up, is played with a full pack of fifty-two cards, which take rank as at Whist—the Ace being the highest and the Deuce the lowest.

The players cut for deal. The dealer then gives six cards to each player, three at a time, and turns up the thirteenth, if there be two players, and the twenty-fifth if there be four. The turn-up is the trump.

The non-dealer then looks at his hand, and determines whether he will hold it for play, or beg. If he is satisfied with his hand, he says, “I stand;” but if he is not satisfied with his cards, he says, “I beg,” in which case the dealer must either suffer his adversary to score one point, saying, “Take one,” or give each three more cards from the pack, and then turn up the next card, the seventh, for trumps; if however, the trump turned up be of the same suit as the first, the dealer must go on, giving each three cards more, and turning up the seventh, until a change of suit for turn-up takes place.

After these preliminaries have been settled, if two only are playing, the non-dealer leads a card, and the dealer plays a card to it; these two cards constitute a trick.

The player who plays the highest card of the suit led, or trumps, wins the trick, and has the next lead. The play proceeds in this way until all the tricks are played.

Each player must follow suit, if he can, unless he chooses to trump.

The points that may be scored are herewith given in their order of precedence.

High.—The highest trump out; the holder scores one point.

Low.—The lowest trump out; the original holder scores one point, even if it be taken by his adversary.

Jack.—The Knave of trumps. The winner of the trick containing it scores one point.

When the Jack is turned up for trump, it counts one point for the dealer, and in that case takes precedence of every other point in the score.

Game.—The greatest number that in the tricks gained, can be shown by either party; reckoning for

Each	Ace	four	towards	game.
”	King	three	”	”
”	Queen	two	”	”
”	Jack	one	”	”
”	Ten	ten	”	”

The other cards do not count towards game; thus it may happen that a deal may be played without either party having any score for game, by reason of holding neither face cards nornor tens.

When the players hold equal numbers, the dealer’s hand scores the point for game.

One card may count all “fours;” for example, the oldest hand holds only the jack of the trump suit, and stands his game, the dealer, having neither trump, ten, ace nor court card, it will follow that the jack will be at once high, low, jack and game.

The game consists of seven points, and the player who first scores that number wins the game. If the non-dealer is dissatisfied with his hand, he may “beg,” i. e., ask the dealer to “give” him one point on his score. If the latter refuse, he must “run the cards,” by which is meant, turn down the trump, deal three cards each to his antagonist and himself, and turn another card. If the latter happen to be of the same suit as that previously turned, it is turned over, and the “running for trumps” is continued until some card of a different suit is turned.

In four-handed Seven-up the parties usually decide who shall be partners by cutting the cards, the two highest and the two lowest playing together. The four players divide themselves into two sets, each player sitting opposite his partner, as at whist. The first deal is decided by cutting the cards, the highest cut having the deal, but afterward it is taken by each player in rotation.

The dealer and the player on his left only are permitted to look at their cards, previous to the latter deciding upon his hand, and in case he begs, the other parties must not raise their cards until the dealer announces whether he will “give one” or “run the cards” for another trump.

There can be little question but that the popular game of seven-up had its origin in the United States, although whether in the East or West is a question, the answer to which is shrouded in obscurity.

Half a century ago the wild frontiersman of Indiana and Illinois were accustomed to while away their nights by playing “High, Low, Jack,” with a greasy pack of cards, upon the head of a whiskey barrel, never quitting the game until they had consumed the contents of the barrel.

Fully as long ago the stalwart lumbermen of Maine sat down upon improvised seats in the pine woods, and devoted Sunday to the same amusement. In these early days the game was, if anything, more popular than at present, for the reason that fewer games of cards were known to the great masses of players.

Occasionally matches, which might nowadays be euphoniously designated as tournaments, were held. In the simple language of those times they were generally referred to as “bouts a keards.” It is probable that even then more or less fraud was practiced by the players, since deception seems to have been a prominent characteristic of the human family since the days of the “fall,” and when cards are played for money the temptation to cheat seems to be, to a certain class of men, irresistible. “Wet groceries” were the favorite stakes of the rough Western farmers and the Eastern lumbermen, yet play was not confined to these. Money earned by long and patient toil of the hardest sort was piled upon barrel heads or laid upon the ground, and it is doubtful whether the losers bore their losses with any more equanimity than do the same class of players to-day. But it has remained for the blackleg of these latter days to introduce into the game those finer arts such as the “half stock” and the “whole stock,” by means of which the unwary are entrapped and the gullible fleeced. To the untutored minds of the early players to whom reference has been made, the idea of reading the cards by the back would have seemed an utter absurdity; but it is true that the farmers and lumbermen have since grown wiser, through no little bitter experience. The result has been that the gamblers do not as easily find victims to-day as they did twenty-five or thirty years ago. This very circumstance shows the benefit effected by the knowledge, and it is the mission of this work to spread broadcast throughout the land such knowledge that he who may be swindled through such artifices as herein described, has only himself to blame for his folly. Infatuation and ignorance have but a poor show of success in a contest with chicanery and skill.

Some of the most common, and at the same time most effective descriptions of fraud practiced in this game will next be concisely described.

In preparing “strippers,” to be used in seven-up, the blacklegs elects either three aces or three jacks, which he leaves in the same condition as that in which they came from the manufacturer. The remainder of the pack he slightly trims down. In using a pack thus prepared the cheat takes advantage of his antagonist’s deal by drawing out these three cards from the pack by their sides, instead of giving the deck a fair, honest cut. Having drawn them out he throws them upon the top, and as a matter of course receives them as his own first three cards. If he has the deal himself he “strips” them, that is draws them out of the pack by the sides, places them on top and throws three cards over them. If his adversary has cut the pack, the gambler “shifts” the cut, as described in the chapter relative to poker. Of course his antagonist now receives the three cards which were thrown on top of the pack, while the sharper receives the three aces or jacks.

The same “brief” is employed in seven-up as in poker. It consists of one wide card which is drawn out and placed on top of the three cards,—usually an ace, deuce or jack—which have been previously arranged together. The object in using this card, as in poker, is to enable their sharper to cut the pack in such a way as to uncover the prepared hand. It may be remarked concerning both “stripper” and “briefs” that their employment is usually more easy of detection than “stocking,” when practiced by an expert, and for this reason they are not favorite devices with most of the profession in playing short games, unless their antagonist be particularly verdant.

In this arrangement of the pack the gambler, having first selected a card of any suit, places above it three others of the same suit. It is a common practice to select the high (ace) the low (deuce) and the jack; above these three others are placed. In shuffling the dealer is careful not to disturb the seven cards thus arranged. Having completed his shuffle, he offers them to be cut. After the cut he deals, as he should do, from the remainder of the pack and leaves the cut lying upon the board. The trump is fairly turned, but as he exposes it the sharper throws it to one side; he then picks up the cut with his right hand and places it on top of the remainder of the pack. His antagonist, being engaged in looking at his hand, naturally fails to observe the order in which the two halves of the pack are put together. The advantage of this maneuver is that if his adversary “begs” the dealer runs off to him the three top cards which he had previously placed together and which, of course, lie on top of the cut, which is now uppermost in the deck. He himself receives the three best cards (perhaps the ace, deuce and jack) of the same suit, which, as we have seen, laid beneath the three upper cards; he then turns a new trump, the seventh card, which, it will be remembered, was also of the same suit. He now holds the high, low and jack of the new trump suit and is naturally in a far better position than his antagonist. Of course the half stock is comparatively valueless unless his opponent begs. But in the course of a rubber the latter is reasonably certain to do this often enough to entail a serious loss upon himself.

In a case where the cards have been stocked on the system of the “whole stock,” it makes not the slightestslightest difference to the sharper whether his adversary beg or not.

The blackleg who intends to employ this artifice is careful to attempt it only when there have been but twelve cards dealt from the pack on any particular hand, for example, when he himself has “stood” on his antagonist’s deal. In picking up the twelve cards from the table he selects four cards of some one suit, of course taking care to choose the highest four which have been played during that hand. Over these four cards he places the remaining eight, above these again a thirteenth card of the same suit, which he takes from the pack. Of course, at this moment the faces of the cards are uppermost. By placing the thirteen arranged cards on the bottom and turning the pack over in order to shuffle, the former are brought to the top. In shuffling he takes great care not to disarrange the prepared thirteen. When his antagonist has cut, the sharper “shifts” the cut, as in poker, thus restoring the cards to their original position. The result is, that in dealing, the last three cards of the original twelve will necessarily fall to himself, and they will of course be of the same suit as the trump card turned.

Crimping in all games is practiced on substantially the same principle. In seven-up the dishonest gamester “crimps,” or bends down, one or more—even three high cards. Of course it is an artifice which can prove of advantage to the operator only on his adversary’s deal, in which case he cuts down to the “crimped” cards, the location of which is perceived by the bent card slightly raising those above it, from those below. If only a single ace be crimped, the result is a very heavy percentage of odds in favor of the sharper.

The object of marking the edges of the cards is practically the same as that of crimping; that is, to enable the blackleg to cut down to any desired card. The edges of the ace or jacks, or possibly of both, are very carefully marked with India ink. Cards thus prepared are useful to the cheat only on his opponent’s deal; but in the latter case he is invariably able to cut the pack in such a way that he will himself receive one of the cards thus marked.

There are two “high hands” in Seven-up, one called the “long hand,” the other the “short hand.” To run up a “long hand” requires more time than can usually be obtained by making a seemingly fair deal or turning up a jack or ten-spot. However, thousands of dollars have been won on this game, as the major hand seems to a tyro a perfectly sure hand for four points—the fact being that it is a “sure thing” the other way.

The “long hand” is a device to which professional gamblers frequently resort, and which often proves highly successful. It is introduced at a stage of the game where the pack has been “run off” to an extent sufficient to give each player nine cards. Of course, the perpetration of the trick presupposes that the pack has been carefully “stocked.” The player who is to be victimized is given the four court cards, ten-spot and deuce of some suit, e. g., of spades, together with the kings of the three other suits. The gambler has dealt himself six of the remaining spades, and the aces of hearts, diamonds and clubs. He then turns a spade—let us say the nine spot.

The reader who has mastered the explanation of the game already given, will comprehend that the dupe is certain of winning three points—the high, low and jack, and with six trumps and three kings of outside suits his chances of making “game” are apparently excellent. He is, therefore, easily induced, even if he does not himself offer, to bet that he will score four points. Now, mark the issue. The “sucker” inevitably makes his “high, low and jack,” but when the count is made for game he finds his reckoning to be 20 (ace 4, king 3, queen 2, jack 1, and ten-spot 10), to his adversary’s 21 (three aces 12, three kings 9, making 21), the result being the loss of his stake.

The “short hand” at “Seven-up” is a trick to which gamblers resort at the stage of the game when the score stands 6 to 5 in favor of the “sucker” and the “professional” has the deal. Six cards having been dealt to each player, the cheat turns up, let us say, a heart, although the particular suit is altogether immaterial, provided the pack has been properly “stocked.” When the greenhorn picks up his cards, he finds he has the aces of the three other suits. Of course, if he is an average player he “begs,” i. e., asks his adversary to “give” him one point. Inasmuch as such a “gift” would make his score seven, and decide the game in his favor, the gamester refuses. The only course remaining is to “run for a new trump.” The dupe now feels perfectly sure of winning the game. He knows that the ace is necessarily “high,” which point counts first in determining who wins the game; and inasmuch as he is aware that either hearts, diamonds or clubs must next be the trump, and he holds the ace of each of these three suits, he “bets his pile” in serene confidence that he will win. And now comes in the “fine work” of the sharper. He takes the deck and “runs off” six cards; he then turns up the seventh, which is always a jack of the suit originally turned, thus adding one to his own tally, and making the score stand 6 to 6. As the rules forbid the same suit being trump, he has to “run” again. Once more the seventh card is turned; another jack (of course of another suit) is exposed: the gambler scores another point for “turning jack,” thus making his account seven and winning the game, leaving the unlucky “sucker” to lament the cruel fate which so effectually prevented him from scoring “high” on either of his three utterly worthless aces.

It is unnecessary to enter into any detailed description of this method of fraud as practiced in seven-up, for the reason that it has been already fully explained in treating of poker. The most common means of practicing this cheat is the employment of the “bug.”

It is, however, for two objects; first to secrete an ace, ten, jack or deuce with a view to their further use, and, secondly as a means by which the sharper may deal to himself seven cards. This latter purpose, and the method by which it is achieved may be worth describing.

On the second run of the deal, the blackleg gives himself four cards instead of three. He then takes out some low card of his strongest suit, places it on top of his cards and his hand on the table. If his adversary stands, he discards some one of his seven cards into the “bug,” thus leaving the proper number in his hand. If on the other hand his antagonist begs, he runs off the desired cards and picking up his own, raises the three last received, on the one which he had previously placed upon the top of his original hand, then exclaims that he has dealt himself four cards instead of three and that the bottom card must be the trump. He thereupon turns over the card of his strongest suit and places it on the top of the deck as the trump, leaving his hand with only the proper number of cards.

Marked cards are often used by professionals in playing seven-up, but the blacklegs do not find them of nearly as great advantage as in many other games. The description of the manner in which they are prepared has already been given in the chapter on poker and need not be here repeated.

This is a very common custom with professional gamblers, who, through long practice, have acquired a manual dexterity which virtually defies detection. The first step of the sharper is to place a jack at the bottom of the pack, leaving it in that position while he deals. If his adversary cuts, the cheat “shifts the cut,” in the same manner as at poker, restoring the cards to their original position. Then, after dealing, he places his hands over the deck, in such a way as to conceal it from view. Then, grasping the pack by its outer edge with his right hand, he turns it over on the jack, simultaneously drawing the latter toward the inside, with his left hand, so that it may meet the other cards as they turn over. He all the time imparts a slight upward movement to the pack, which he finally drops upon the table.

Of course, as above explained, by “turning up jack” the dealer scores one. If, now, his opponent begs, the gambler takes occasion surreptitiously to observe the suit of the bottom card. If it happens to be the same as the strongest suit in his own hand, he repeats the trick, turning it for trump, thereby practically placing himself in a position where the chances for winning decidedly preponderate in his favor.

The sharper very commonly selects as the moment for using this stratagem, that period of the game when the score stands six to six, thus scoring the single point necessary to enable him to win.

Whist is too tedious a game for the professional gambler; it is peculiarly a game of skill, and therefore less adapted to cheating purposes, than are many others, the issue of which depends more upon chance. At one time both long and short whist were very popular at evening parties, but neither of them was ever a general game for money in this country, and even as a pastime Euchre has far surpassed it in public favor.

Still, trickery may be employed with telling effect, and the professional blackleg brings his ill-directed skill to bear upon it in a variety of ways.

The chief advantage to be obtained by the deal is with a “second,” and the gambler who is sufficiently dexterous to give the aces, kings and queens to himself and his partner can make the “odd trick” every time he deals.

“Signing up” between partners is also an essential element in fraudulent whist playing. For although each confederate has a general knowledge of the contents of his partner’s hand, yet there are critical periods in the game, especially when one of the two holds uncertain cards, when “signing up” is of great value in determining the event with absolute certainty. This secret telegraphy is arranged beforehand between the pair of swindlers, the signals for “suit” and “size” being mutually agreed upon; and where the understanding is perfect the defeat of any honest players with whom they may be contending, is a moral certainty.

“” ‘’ Another favorite device of card sharpers is to “ring in a cold deck,” by which is meant the substitution of a pack of cards having precisely similar backs as those used in the game, but which have been previously so arranged that while the greenhorns shall receive excellent hands, it is a matter of utter impossibility for them to score the odd trick. The substitution having been effected, one of the swindlers contrives some excuse for not looking at his hand until after his antagonists shall have examined theirs. Perhaps he lights a cigar, protesting that it will not “draw.” After the dupes have seen their cards, he proposes a wager—“just to make it interesting”—that he and his partner will win the odd trick. He adds that he will bet on his hand “unsight, unseen.” The honest player usually protests that he has looked at his cards already. “O, well,” says the blackleg; “never mind that. I’m in for a ‘spec,’ and if you want a little ‘go,’ I’m your man for twenty or so.”so.” At this point, the moral (?) companion of the sharper interferes with a protest. He doesn’t believe in betting on a friendly game; money is not so easily made that it can be thrown away, etc., etc. But this is so artfully said as to stimulate rather than to check the greenhorn’s desire to bet. A little more conversation almost invariably results in the making of a wager, the limit of which is determined by the purse and the verdancy of the victim. The stakes having been placed the game proceeds. The inevitable result follows: The “suckers” win the first six tricks and the sharpers the last seven and the money. The original pack had been put out of sight and the dupes rarely discover the manner in which they have been swindled, even if they suspect that any fraud whatever has been practised.

To illustrate the manner in which a pack of cards has been prepared for this purpose, let us suppose a party seated at the whist table. A, a sharper, deals to B, his verdant antagonist, the ace, king, queen, knave, ten and nine of hearts, which we will assume to be trumps; the ace, king, queen and knave of clubs; and the ace, king and queen of spades; the hand being, of course, void of diamonds. Every whist player would recognize this as an exceedingly strong, if not an impregnable, hand. But observe what A gives himself and his partner; the eight, seven, six, five, four, three and deuce of trumps, and of the rest of the pack, it is a matter of indifference. Now, mark the result. B leads off with his trumps, of which he has six; A follows suit every time, having seven; next B leads his ace of spades, which A takes with his remaining trump. The lead being now with the latter, he plays his six diamonds, each one of which, of course, takes a trick, the blackleg thus securing the odd trick. In considering a trick of this kind, the average man is at a loss whether to admire its ingenuity or condemn its rascality.

This is one of the games of cards usually first taught to children and commonly considered too simple to interest matured minds. As a matter of fact, to play it successfully requires an exercise of memory second only to that necessary in playing at Whist.

It is not a favorite with gamblers for the reason that it presents comparatively few opportunities of using the advantages so dear to the heart of the blackleg. At the same time “eminent professionals” have been known to win $1,000 on a single game, and I have myself played for (and won) $50 on the hazard of one hand. It is related of “Canada Bill,” elsewhere referred to as the “king of the monte men,” that he deceived himself into believing that he understood the game. While he was making his headquarters in Kansas City he was wont to make short trips upon the railways centering there, from which he would not infrequently return with $2,000 or $3,000. He was then willing to have a bout at casino (and he would play no other game) for from $100 to $500 with any one who offered. Shrewd rascal as he was, he was the veriest tyro—in fact a “sucker”—at his own favorite pastime, and the blacklegs of the place used to fleece him unmercifully.

The main reliance of the gambler at this game, however, is in the superior skill resulting from careful study and long practice. An expert gamester can always tell the cards remaining in the pack at the commencement of the last deal, even on a perfectly fair game.

Of course “paper,” i.e., marked cards, are invaluable to the cheat at this as at all other games, and this is really the principal scheme of fraud of any importance ever attempted at this game. Occasionally, when a professional is playing with a greenhorn, he will contrive to keep a nine spot on top of his pile of tricks, which he uses in “building” to suit himself. Sometimes also a card of some low denomination (e.g. the three spot of hearts) is substituted for the ace of spades, which the sharper abstracts and conceals, placing it among his tricks and using it in counting his own points for game. This is rather unsafe, however, as the duplicate cards occasionally come together.

Casino is an amusement frequently affected by broken down gamblers, whose depleted resources do not permit them to “sit in” a game of poker, and who seek to rehabilitate their fallen fortunes by playing casino for a stake of five cents on a game of twenty-one points.

Perhaps no game is more universally played in the United States than Euchre. It is pre-eminently a social amusement. While it does not possess the absorbing fascination of whist, it permits free and unrestrained conversation among the players, which circumstance has unquestionably contributed largely to its popularity.

It is probable that it originated in the Western States, but its devotees are to-day confined to no section, and the pastime finds its defenders alike in the saloon, the gaming “hell” and the drawing room.

To be a successful Euchre player calls for the exercise of excellent judgment, considerable finesse and no little boldness. As it is never played with a pack of more than thirty-two cards, this game does not afford so many opportunities for fraud, but the slightest advantage which can be gained, tells with unfailing certainty.

In fleecing victims at euchre, professional gamblers resort to many of the practices which are so successfully employed at “seven-up.” “Marked” or “advantage cards,” are among the most common devices of the sharpers.

“Strippers” are also found extremely useful. These are prepared in the same manner as in all other games, i. e. by removing—either from each side or both ends—a narrow, triangular “strip,” not wider than one-sixteenth of an inch at the widest part. One of the “surest things” is to have the cards cut for two jack “strippers,” which the “professional” can strip on the top of the pack on his opponent’s deal, thus securing two bowers. Sometimes one jack of a red and one of a black suit are selected for this purpose, but it is usually considered better to use two jacks of the same color, for the reason that should a trump of that color be turned, (which is likely to occur at least half the time) the cheat is sure of both bowers. This, as every euchre player knows, gives an immense advantage. Yet this trick is not always certain to win; sometimes “luck” will favor the honest player, and it is recorded that a guileless and unsuspecting neophyte once won sixteen consecutive games from a blackleg who trusted to this expedient. Such instances, however, are almost as rare as ice in the tropics; and any man is utterly devoid of sense who imagines that he is safe in trusting to chance, as against skill combined with chicanery.

“Briefs” may also be advantageouslyadvantageously used at euchre. The gambler places a “brief” above two bowers, or a bower and an ace, and the cut is made down to it on his adversary’s deal, thus insuring at least two high cards.

“Stocking” is far more easily accomplished at this game than at either poker or “seven-up,” and the gamester who is proficient in arranging the cards for either of the other two games finds it an easy matter to “put up” a deck for euchre, although it is absolutely essential to his success that he should be an expert at “shifting the cut.”

“Crimping” is practiced precisely as in “seven-up,” the most common device being to “crimp” a jack and then cut to it. The sharper also not infrequently marks the edges of the bowers with India ink, whereby he is always able so to cut the pack as to be certain of securing one of these desirable cards, with the chance of another one should two happen to lie together.

As in poker, the “bug” is sometimes used for “holding out” a valuable card—e. g., a bower or ace, and sometimes two. A card “held out” is occasionally “palmed;” by which is meant that it is concealed by the black-leg in the palm of his hand when the pack is handed him to cut. He then adroitly drops it on top, lightly taps the deck and allows the cards to run. If the gambler wishes to palm a card on his own deal, he places it on top of the pack as described and either makes a false cut or shuffles the pack through once without disturbing the one palmed.

However, although these nefarious artifices are constantly practiced by black-legs upon the unsophisticated player, it is only right to say that the “profession” does not regard euchre with favor as a game at which quick and large returns may be realized. It is mainly employed to fleece victims through a device technically called the “high hand,” which, as thus used, has very generally supplanted “three card monte” on railroad trains and steamboats. These conveyances are most commonly selected by this class of card sharps as the theater of their exploits. In the operation of this scheme of fraud, two confederates act in concert. Usually the game is commenced by “roping in” two greenhorns to make up a euchre party, “just for amusement,” or possibly for stakes, which are merely nominal. As soon as a fairly good hand has been obtained by one of the pair and the next deal is to fall to his confederate, he “plays it alone,” his accomplice gathering in the tricks as they are made. As he does so he can easily arrange the cards so that when dealt they will inevitably fall into “poker hands,” that is, into “single pairs,” “full houses,” “four of a kind,” etc.—for an explanation of which terms the reader is referred to the chapter on “Poker and Poker Players.” One of the sharpers at once offers to bet at poker; his ally accepts the gauntlet thus thrown down, the stakes are put up, and the bet won. As soon as occasion offers these tactics are repeated, until finally one of the “suckers,” who has been given what would be an extraordinarily strong hand at “bluff,” is induced to bet. The stakes are at once “raised,” as at poker, and when the hands are shown, the victim always finds that he has lost, for the reason that the sharper always holds a hand “just a little higher.”higher.”

WhenWhen a “gudgeon” displays an unusual reluctance to “snap at the bait” sometimes he is given four kings—a hand which only four aces or a “royal flush” can beat. If he still hesitates the confederate who sits next to him shows him an ace in his own hand, thereby convincing him that his adversary, at best, cannot have four aces, and inducing him to believe that he has a “sure thing.” When the “show-down” comes the dupe is amazed to be confronted by four aces in his opponent’s hand! The explanation is simple; the pack had five aces.

Cribbage is a quicker game than whist, and therefore better adapted to the requirements of the professional blackleg. It is not so popular in this country as in England, although extensively played and constantly gaining in favor.

As five-spots are most valuable cards at cribbage, various devices are employed by professionals to secure them. One of the most common is “palming.” In accomplishing this the sharper conceals two five-spots and any other two cards in the palm of his right hand, alternating the fives with indifferent cards, and playing them so that the five-spots shall be below the others. Having arranged the cards in this manner in his hand, the sharper—with an air of candor—passes the rest of the pack to his antagonist, with the request that the latter shuffle them while he is lighting his cigar. The cards having been shuffled, the blackleg takes them in the hand in which he has “palmed” the four cards, which are thus placed upon the top of the pack, and, of course are dealt first. Sometimes the professional marks all four fives, so that while dealing he may not only avoid giving them to the dupe, but may, as opportunity offers, appropriate them to himself. Another trick sometimes practiced by less dexterous manipulators is to place the fives at the bottom of the pack, and quietly drop them into the dealer’s hand. Cards are also sometimes secreted between the knee and the table, or in the “bug,” as in poker, or in the coat collar, so that the swindler may exchange bad cards received during a deal for good ones previously abstracted from the pack. The coat collar, and the knee-and-table method have generally fallen into disfavor as being too clumsy and liable to detection.

Cards are sometimes prepared for cribbage as follows. The sixes, sevens, eights and nines are cut slightly shorter than the others, while the fives, court cards and tens are cut a trifle narrower. If a sharper wishes a card of one of the former denominations to turn up, he cuts the pack by lifting the ends, and one of the cards which he needs is certain to be uppermost on the cut, for the reason that they are shorter than the others. But if a five, ten or court card be desired, he cuts by taking hold of the cards on the sides, and the card which he needs, being narrower than the rest, will be infallibly discovered.

Crimping is also practiced at cribbage. In the course of two or three deals, the sixes, sevens, eights and nines are bent in the middle lengthwise, the sides inclining downwards. By this means it is possible for the sharper to obtain one of the important cards at the start, should he want it, by cutting the pack where he sees the bent card. Sometimes two or three small cards are surreptitiously taken from the pack. The dupe, not knowing this, plays at a great disadvantage, while the knowledge of the fact is proportionately of benefit to the blackleg.

A common method of cheating at cribbage, euchre, and in fact nearly all card games, is the “telegraph.” A confederate gambler looking over the shoulder of an honest player, under pretense of taking an interest in the game, with, perhaps, the excuse of a trifling bet on his success, reads off his hand to the other gambler, who is thereby thoroughly informed as to its nature and value. This information can be conveyed in a hundred ways, without speaking a word or moving a finger. An almost imperceptible movement of the eyebrows, an expansion of the nostrils, a puff of cigar smoke to the right or the left, an opening of the mouth, a turn of the head, biting the lip, chewing a toothpick—these and a thousand other equally simple devices, previously agreed upon and thoroughly understood, may be employed to abstract money from the pocket of an unsuspecting dupe. Of course, under such circumstances the confederate sharpers pretend to be utter strangers to each other, and not infrequently there occurs a slight wrangle between them, which serves still further to instil into the mind of the victim the belief that the sharper who acts as “stool pigeon” is his friend.

Considered on the whole, however, cribbage is not a favorite game with professional blacklegs, for the reasons stated above. There are, however, many persons who are exceedingly fond of it, and who are easily induced to play for stakes in the belief that cheating at it is practically impossible. To such players as these the foregoing remarks are especially commended. There is no game where innocence and ignorance are a match for chicanery. Nor does the expert card-sharper know either pity or remorse. The man who sits down at a table to play for stakes is supremely foolish, and the man who gambles with a stranger is preternaturally idiotic. The only safety for the unsophisticated youth, the only safe rule for every man, young or old, is to abstain from gambling altogether.

This game of vingt-un, as its name denotes, originated in France, but has achieved wonderful popularity, not only all over the continent of Europe and the kingdom of Great BritainBritain, but also on the shores of the Western Hemisphere.

It is played by any number of persons, seated around a table similar to that used in faro. The banker always deals, and uses one, two, or three packs of cards, according to the number of players.

After the cards are shuffled he draws one from the pack and places it at the bottom, face upward. This is called “burning” a card. The object is to prevent what is known among gamblers as “bottom dealing,” and this practice measurably interferes with one of the favorite practices of card sharpers. First, all bets are made before they deal. Two cards are given to each player, one at a time. When all have been supplied, the players look at their hands. The king, queen, jack and ten spot each count ten; an ace counts one or eleven, at the option of its holder, but he is always guided in his determination by the exigencies of his hand. The remainder of the cards are reckoned according to the number of spots upon their faces. Each player signifies his satisfaction, or dissatisfaction with his hand by “standing” or calling for a card which is dealt to him, face upward. If this does not satisfy him he can call for a second or even a third, as long as it does not count more than twenty-one. If a player, who elects to draw to his hand, finds that the number of spots on the cards drawn, added to the number on those which he first received, exceeds twenty-one, he is said to have “burst,” and throws his hand face downward upon the table, the stake being forfeited to the banker, who is always the dealer.

After all have stood or drawn, the dealer turns his hand face upward on the table, and either stands or draws. If he draws and “bursts,” that is makes his count exceed twenty-one, he pays to each player the stake which he has advanced, provided such player has not already overdrawn. If he stands, or draws so that his hand does not exceed twenty-one, he receives from or pays to each player in rotation; the one whose cards reckon up nearest twenty-one being considered the winner. In the case of a tie between the dealer and any of the players, the former takes the stakes.

Every man who has ever played Vingt-un knows that the foregoing description of the game is palpably incomplete. The author does not aim fully to instruct the ignorant as to the legitimate method of playing all games of cards. Wherever a game, as honestly played, is described in this book, it is his intention to give only such an explanation of the game as may enable the reader thoroughly to comprehend the frauds practiced by blacklegs. It is idle folly to say to a man that he is on the edge of a precipice, who does not understand what a precipice is.

There can be no question that the explanation of the tricks of “professionals” in this game will be thoroughly comprehended by those who have ever played it, either for the purposes of amusement or in a gaming “hell.”

In the first place the dealer enjoys an unquestionable advantage, and the sharper always endeavors to obtain the deal if possible. Failing in that, two other resources are open to him. As honestly played, the game is one which calls for the exercise of some little discretion, considerable finesse and extraordinary boldness. If square players possess these qualifications, it is necessary for the “professional” to encounter from some “point of vantage.” The most common agencies employed to effect this result are the use either of marked cards or of the “bug.” If he uses the latter, it is comparatively easy for him to fill in his hand without a draft, standing on two cards and raising from—and at the same time discarding to the “bug.” If he is able to make use of the marked cards, it is, of course, easy for him to tell what he will receive on the draw, and he guides his action accordingly.

The “second” hand, is often found invaluable to gamblers who wish to win at this game. If a sharper has marked cards, or “paper,” he can readily deal from eight, while he draws with absolute certaintycertainty. If, on the other hand, he is using a fair pack, it is not much trouble for him to prick those above the nine. This having been done, on dealing a “second,” it is the simplest thing in the world to pick up twenty-one every time.

It is much easier to deal a “second” at vingt-un than at poker, for the reason that the deal affords far better opportunities for delay and stoppage in the former game than in the latter.

Any reader who is not a preternatural idiot can easily see that a “professional” who uses “paper” has enough percentage to bankrupt a greenhorn with the utmost celerity and dispatch.

Sometimes a partner is found valuable. In such a case, the latter usually sits directly on the right hand of the dealer. A system of signals between the two confederates having been arranged, the “elder” hand is able to tell precisely when it is advisable for him to “draw.” This he does without any regard to his own hand. It is no difficult matter for an accomplice to continue his draft until some card appears on top that will fill the dealer’sdealer’s hand. Marked cards, are of course, an advantage even in the accomplishment of this scheme. When both circumstances are combined—i. e. “paper” and partner—there can be little doubt as to which party will win.

It is not an uncommon practice among gamblers to “stand” on their first two cards without drawing, even when they have not more than twelve or thirteen. The object is to mislead an unsuspecting player into the belief that they already hold nineteen or twenty.twenty. The result often is that the latter is thus induced to draw until he “bursts.” Just here, is where the advantage of having a partner is most apparent. The dealer either draws according to some previously determined system of signals between himself and his partner, or is guided by the action of his confederate not drawing.