The Argosy, January 1906 — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

276 green-cloth fraternity, and the rakish tilt of his high hat and the jaunty swagger with which he carried himself proved that he certainly had the cour- age of his convictions—whatever they might be. “How are you, Jim?” asked this gentleman from the passage. Dexter stared coldly and made no response. The blackleg shrugged his shoulders. “You overwhelm me _ with the warmth of your welcome,” smiled the gambler easily. “ You know me, any- how.” “I know that you are Three-Card Jenkins,” said Jim, “and that your specialty is a cold deck. That’s enough to wipe you off my visiting list. Good- by, Mr. Jenkins.” : Jim turned away abruptly, but Jen- kins was not to be shaken off. “T will leave you cheerfully, Mr. Dexter,” said he, “as soon as you con- descend to transact a little business with me.” “Business!” cried Jim. business can I have with you?” “J have three or four I. O. U.’s which you might think it best to take up, and so head off legal proceedings,” came blandly from Mr. Jenkins. ““T never gave you a due-bill in my life.” “The Honorable Jim Dexter has a bank account which would preclude that necessity. I don’t believe, however, that you will let this paper go to pro- test.” 3 “Let me see the due-bills,” said the puzzled cattleman. “ Here is one”—and Jenkins pushed it through the bars. What For value received I promise to pay Archibald Jenkins five hundred dollars on demand. Roy Burnuam. The words eyes. “Tt’s an infernal forgery!” he raged, crushing the slip in his hand and hurling it at the mocking face on the other side of the bars. “We will find out about that in due course,” returned Jenkins calmly, fish- ing for the crumpled due-bill with his eane. “ What are you going to do about swam before Dexter’s THE ARGOSY. it, Mr. Dexter?” he inquired, recov- ering the bit of paper. “Get out!” stormed Jim. “I don’t want another word out of you.” “There will be an unpleasant ex- posure when this comes to trial,” went on Jenkins. ‘ Of course, Mr. Dexter, I have no claim on you for my money, but as Burnham’s good name appears to be the object of your solicitude, I thought I would call and give you an opportu- nity to redeem it. My duty is done, and I will now take my departure.” He started off. “Come back here!” ter, rattling the cell door savagcly. Not only did the gambler come back, but the turnkey, thinking the noise a summons, likewise showed himself. “ What do you want, Jim?” asked the official. “ Bring me a pen and ink, Jasper,” said Jim. ‘The turnkey left for the writing materials. “Tow many of those I. O. U.’s did you say you had, Jenkins?” Jim asked. POUT R “What is the total amount?” “Twelve hundred dollars.” * Bundle them in here.” Jenkins pushed the four slips through the bars. Dexter did not even look at them, but struck a match and burned them before the blackleg’s eyes. “ Don’t worry,” said Jim, noting the expression of alarm that crossed Jen- kins’ face; “ you'll gct your money.” When the pen and ink arrived the cattleman sat down at a table in his cell and wrote out a check. “There,” said he, pushing the check through the bars, “is the price of your miserable plotting. ‘Those papers were forgeries, but I have no time to bother with you on account of them. But look here, Mr. Three-Card Jenkins, if you ever spring another of those for- geries on me, Ill cowhide you within an inch of your hfe. Take yourself off— the air in here is none too good, any- way.” Jenkins left, and Jim paced his cell with bowed head. This was a dastardly blow at Roy, and the injustice of it wore on his spirit. Roy had all the money he ‘wanted to spend, and it was not neces- shouted Dex- ecom chook (Eo) m