himself: ’Believe I’ll draw out just a small sum and try my luck once more—just once.’ Well, he kept drawing on that money till it is all gone. Nothing to it, you know. Then one night he gets down on his knees and prays. ’Lord,’ says he, ’if I ever play again I hope you’ll make me lose.’" "Did he play again?" Bodney asked. "Yes; he keep right on." "And did he lose?" "No. He coppers his bets." Bodney was immensely tickled at the idea of the fellow "coppering" his bets to offset the influence of the Deity, and he laughed uproariously, but just then he lost a pot, and his mirth fell dead. And after this every time he opened a pot someone would raise him. After a while he dragged out his last five dollars and invested in chips. Then he sank into the condition known as "sifting," anteing and never getting a pair. Behind him stood a man waiting for his seat. He saw his last chip melt away and he got up, so heavy that he could hardly stand. The fellow who had told the story, and to whom Bodney had paid the tribute of most generous laughter, dealt the cards and skipped Bodney without even looking at him. But Bodney looked at him, and how offensive he was. "I’d like to cut his infamous throat," he mused. Down the stairs again he went, heavier and more desperate than before. It was now past midnight. "Now what?" he said, halting on a corner and wiping his hot face. "I don’t know what to do, but I almost know I could win out if I had ten more. But I don’t know where to get it. There’s no use to look for Goyle. I wonder if that fellow at the drug store would let me have another ten. I’ll go and see." He crossed over, went into the drug store, and asked the squirter of soda water if his friend was there. No, he had gone home. "Is there anything I can do for you?" "Well, I don’t know. By the way, you’ve seen me in here a number of times, haven’t you?" "Oh, yes. And I used to see you over at the other place." "Yes, I remember, now. And your name is—" "Watkins." "Yes, that’s a fact. I remember you now. How are you getting along, Watkins?" "All right." "Yes, sir, I used to know you," said Bodney. "And I guess you are about the best in your line." The man smiled. "Well, that’s what they say." "Yes, I’ve heard a good many people say it. Well, you understand your business. Say, can you do me a favor? I need ten dollars till tomorrow morning, and if you’ll let me have it, I’ll—" The man shut him off with the shake of the head. "I haven’t got ten cents," he said.