The Quadroon: Adventures in the Far West

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.

  THE FARO BANK.

  We entered the saloon. The game _voila_!

  At one end was the table--the bank. We could see neither bank nordealer; both were hidden by the double ring of bettors, who encircledthe table--one line seated, the other standing behind. There werewomen, too, mingled in the crowd--seated and standing in everyattitude--gay and beautiful women, decked out in the finery of fashion,but with a certain _braverie_ of manner that betokened their unfortunatecharacter.

  D'Hauteville had guessed aright--the game was at its height. The lookand attitudes of the betters--their arms constantly in motion, placingtheir stakes--the incessant rattling of the ivory cheques, and theclinking together of dollars--all told that the game was progressingbriskly.

  A grand chandelier, suspended above the table, cast its brilliant lightover the play and the players.

  Near the middle of the saloon stood a large table, amply furnished with"refreshments." Cold fowls, ham and tongue, chicken salad, andlobsters, cut-glass decanters tilled with wine, brandy, and otherliquors, garnished this table. Some of the plates and glasses bore thetraces of having been already used, while others were clean and readyfor anyone who chose to play knife and fork a while. It was, in fact, a"free lunch," or rather supper--free to any guest who chose to partakeof it. Such is the custom of an American gambling-house.

  The rich viands did not tempt either my companion or myself. We passedthe table without halting, and walked directly up to the "bank."

  We reached the outer circle, and looked over the shoulders of theplayers. "_Shade of Fortuna! Chorley and Hatcher_!"

  Yes--there sat the two sharpers, side by side, behind the faro-table--not as mere bettors, but acting respectively as banker and croupier ofthe game! Chorley held the dealing-box in his fingers, while Hatchersat upon his right, with cheques, dollars, and bank-notes piled upon thetable in front of him! A glance around the ring of faces showed us thepork-merchant as well. There sat he in his loose jeans coat and broadwhite-hat, talking farmer-like, betting bravely, and altogether astranger to both banker and croupier!

  My companion and I regarded each other with a look of surprise.

  After all, there was nothing to surprise us. A faro bank needs nocharter, no further preliminaries to its establishment than to light upa table, spread a green baize over it, and commence operations. Thesportsmen were no doubt quite at home here. Their up-river excursionwas only by way of a little variety--an interlude incidental to thesummer. The "season" of New Orleans was now commencing, and they hadjust returned in time for it. Therefore there was nothing to besurprised at, in our finding them where we did.

  At first seeing them, however, I felt astonishment, and my companionseemed to share it. I turned towards him, and was about proposing thatwe should leave the room again, when the wandering eye of the pseudopork-merchant fell upon me.

  "Hilloa, stranger!" he cried out, with an air of astonishment, "youhyar?"

  "I believe so," I replied unconcernedly.

  "Wal! wal! I tho't you war lost. Whar did you go, anyhow?" he inquiredin a tone of vulgar familiarity, and loud enough to turn the attentionof all present upon myself and my companion.

  "Ay--_whar_ did I go?" I responded, keeping my temper, and concealingthe annoyance I really felt at the fellow's impudence.

  "Yes--that's jest what I wanted to know."

  "Are you very anxious?" I asked.

  "Oh, no--not particklerly so."

  "I am glad of that," I responded, "as I don't intend telling you."

  With all his swagger I could see that his crest fell a little at thegeneral burst of laughter that my somewhat _bizarre_ remark had calledforth.

  "Come, stranger," he said, in a half-deprecatory, half-spiteful tone,"you needn't a be so short-horned about it, I guess; I didn't mean nooffence--but you know you left us so suddintly--never mind--'taint nobusiness o' mine. You're going to take a hand at faro, ain't you?"

  "Perhaps."

  "Wal, then, it appears a nice game. I'm jest trying it for the firsttime myself. It's all chance, I believe--jest like odds and evens. I'ma winnin' anyhow."

  He turned his face to the bank, and appeared to busy himself inarranging his bets.

  A fresh deal had commenced, and the players, drawn off for a moment byour conversation, became once more engaged in what was of greaterinterest to them--the little money-heaps upon the cards.

  Of course, both Chorley and Hatcher recognised me; but they hadrestricted their recognitions to a friendly nod, and a glance thatplainly said--

  "He's here! all right! he'll not go till he has tried to get back hishundred dollars--he'll have a shy at the bank--no fear but he will."

  If such were their thoughts they were, not far astray. My ownreflections were as follows:--

  "I may as well risk my money here as elsewhere. A faro bank is a farobank all the same. There is no opportunity for cheating, where cardsare thus dealt. The arrangement of the bets precludes every possibilityof such a thing. Where one player loses to the bank, another may winfrom it by the very same turn, and this of course checks the dealer fromdrawing the cards falsely, even if it were possible for him to do so.So I may as well play against Messrs. Chorley and Hatcher's bank as anyother--better, indeed; for if I am to win I shall have the satisfactionof the _revanche_, which those gentlemen owe me. I shall play herethen. Do you advise me, Monsieur?"

  Part of the above reflections, and the interrogatory that wound them up,were addressed in a whisper to the young Creole.

  He acknowledged their justice. He advised me to remain. He was of theopinion I might as well tempt fortune there as go farther.

  Enough--I took out a five-dollar gold-piece, and placed it upon the ace.

  No notice was taken of this--neither banker nor croupier even turningtheir eyes in the direction, of the bet. Such a sum as five dollarswould not decompose the well-practised nerves of these gentlemen--wheresums of ten, twenty, or even fifty times the amount, were constantlypassing to and from their cash-box.

  The deal proceeded, Chorley drawing the cards with that air ofimperturbable _sang-froid_ so characteristic of his class.

  "Ace wins," cried a voice, as two aces came forth together.

  "Pay you in cheques, sir?" asked the croupier.

  I assented, and a flat round piece of ivory, of a red colour, with thefigure 5 in its centre, was placed upon my half-eagle. I permitted bothto remain upon the ace. The deal went on, and after a while two acescame out together, and two more of the red cheques were mine.

  I suffered all four pieces, now worth twenty dollars, to lie. I had notcome there to amuse myself. My purpose was very different; and,impelled by that purpose, I was resolved not to waste time. If Fortunewas to prove favourable to me, her favours were as likely to be minesoon as late; and when I thought of the real stake for which I wasplaying, I could not endure the suspense. No more was I satisfied atcontact with the coarse and bawd company that surrounded the table.

  The deal went on--and after some time aces again came out. This time Ilost.

  Without a word passing from his lips, the croupier drew in the chequesand gold-piece, depositing them in his japanned cash-box, I took out mypurse, and tried ten dollars upon the queen, I won. I doubled the bet,and lost again.

  Another ten dollars won--another lost--another and another, and so on,now winning, now losing, now betting with cheques, now withgold-pieces--until at length I felt to the bottom of my purse withoutencountering a coin!