The Argosy, April 1912 — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

WRESTING A PITTSBURGH SECRET. “Oh, yes, he’s lightning on figures. But it is in the little points of the game, which old players know by heart, where he may fall down.” ; “Qne for his nob!” shouted Jim McKee at this moment. The cards had been dealt, and each of the players having thrown in one apiece for the “crib,’’ Steiner had cut what remained of the deck for Jim to take off the top card. He had turned up a Jack of clubs. “Ugh!” growled Sim Galt. “What are ver talkin’ about? It ain’t one fer his nob, it’s two for his heels.” “Eh? Oh, yes, that’s what I meant,” corrected Jim McKee hastily, as he stuck a red peg in one of the holes of the board. “Wot yer doin’? Yer peggin’ up the in- side, when yer ought to go on the out- side. I thought yer knowed how to play . cribbage.”’ Sim Galt’s eyes shone ferociously be- neath the brim of his hat. A mistake at cribbage was to him one of the deadly sins. “There he goes,” groaned Fred. “I only hope|we shall get the information we’re after before Mr. McKee breaks up the game.” Delia carne quietly shuffling along from the kitchen. “Whisper!” she murmured. ‘Av Mis- ther Steiner makes a move to come out, all yez hov t’ do is to shlip back into me kitchen an’ I’li hide yez in th’ cellar.” “We know, Delia,” returned Lucille. “TI know yez do, alanna, but I’m afeared th’ lad there—Misther Barrington—might be afther fergittin’, Thot’s phwy I’m tellin’ yez agin.” She went back to her kitchen and Lucille listened anxiously for any moving of chairs in the dining-room. Fred, at the little slit, had the only place where it was possible to see. The game went on in comparative silence for some time. As in most card games, so much can be expressed in cribbage by raps with the knuckles, waves of the hand, nods and shakes of the head, and grunts of vary- ing and distinctive cadence, that conversa- tion may be dispensed with practically al- together. Even the laborious “ fifteen-two, fifteen-four,” et cetera, with the illumina- ting “a double run of three,” “a flush of four,” “one for his nob,” and kindred jar- gon, can be cut out when all the players are skilful enough to count any kind of hand mentally at a glance. 9A 129 “TI wish Willings was here,” grumbled Sim Galt, suddenly breaking the stillness. “He knows how to play.” Galt’s unhappy partner, Jim McKee, in reply to an angry query, had just confessed that he had thrown away his most valuable card, by putting it into the “crib,” losing six holes by the move. “Well, Willings isn’t here, and he won't be any more,” snapped Carl Steiner. | Sim Galt was irritated by the tone. He dashed his cards angrily upon the table— not forgetting to place them face downward, however—and roared: “Look here, Carl Steiner, the reason I’m letting yer have that there No. 1 powder from the Barrington quarry ain’t on account o’ the money you pay. No, siree! It’s—” “Shut up!” ordered Steiner with a threatening movement. “No, I won’t shet up, an’ you want to keep im yer chair when I’m a talkin’. Mind that! I’m sellin’ that powder to you because I wants my reg’lar game 0’ crib- bage. I’ve got to have cribbage, same as I must have my ham an’ aigs whenever I come to Pittsburgh. Last time you had Willings here, and your girl. Both of ’em played well, an’ the game was interestin’. Therefore I went back to Lookout Moun- tain satisfied.” “Lookout Mountain, eh?” muttered Fred. “Seems to me I’ve heard my father say something about that place.” “Listen!” whispered Lucille. The row was still going on in the dining- room, with Professor Shaw and Jim Mc- Kee evidently enjoying it. They, like Fred Barrington, were in hopes that the friction would strike off a few sparks of information useful to them. “Will you keep quiet, Sim Galt?” snarled Steiner, looking over his cards with pretended calmness, although he could not control the shaking of his hands. “No, I won’t keep quiet!” was the vio lent reply. “You ain’t givin’ me a square deal. Mr. McKee is all right in his ewn business of makin’ steel. JI ain’t sayin’ nothin’ about that. But he ain’t there when at comes to cribbage, an’ I’m havin’ my whole evenin’ sp’iled. I only gits a game once in two weeks. When I do play crib I wants it ter bite. Understand? You could have had Willings here if you’d wanted ter. Your fight with young Barrington ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. We had him last time.” CONMUC NOOLK CO