Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling StoneReid, Mayne
General
Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone
Reid, Mayne
Adventure stories; Dime novels; Fiction
I saw the woman give him a glance, that might be interpreted into the
words, "I wish _you_ would win me." He appeared to notice it, and take
the hint: for he immediately entered himself for another chance.
The remaining share was then taken by somebody else; and the ceremony of
throwing the dice was commenced.
Each was to have three throws, taking three dice at each throw; and the
man who should score the highest number, was to win the woman.
A name would be called out, as it stood on the list; the owner of it
would then come forward, and throw the dice--when the number he should
score would be recorded against his name.
All the numbers made, chanced to be very low, none of them reaching over
thirty-eight--until I had finished "tossing the bones," when I was told
that the aggregate recorded in my favour was _forty-seven_.
I felt as good as certain that the woman was mine: for the chances were
more than a hundred to one against any of the five others who were to
throw after me.
The young fellow who had paid for two shares, looked very blank: his
remaining chance was now scarce worth a shilling.
"I will give you fifteen pounds for your throw," said he, addressing
himself to me.
I glanced at my mate, and saw him give his head a slight inclination: as
a sign for me to accept the offer--which I did.
The money was paid down; and after all had finished tossing, number
forty-seven was declared the winner. This had been my score. The
woman, therefore, belonged to the young man, who had bought it from me.
She was at once handed over to him; and inaugurated the "nuptials" by
flinging her arms around his neck, and giving him a sonorous "buss" upon
the cheek!
After we came away from the place, I learnt from my mate, that the
affair was what he called "a sell."
"Then why did you propose that we should take a chance?" I asked.
"Why," he replied, with a significant shrug, "well, I'll tell you. I
was told to come to the raffle, because I was working with you--who they
thought would be likely to take a share. Had you not taken one, they
would have supposed that I had cautioned you not to do so; and I should
have made enemies amongst some of the old hands--who look upon me as,
being in all things, one of themselves."
"And you think that the woman will not live with the young man who won
her?"
"I'm sure of it. She'll go along with him for awhile; but she won't
stay with him. She'll run away from him--join, Brumming, again--and the
two will repeat the same dodge at some other diggings."
I divided the fifteen pounds with my partner; and retired to my tent--
well pleased that I had so disposed of my chance, and no little amused
at the grotesque chapter of "life on the Avoca," it had been my fortune
to be witness to.
A few weeks after the occurrence, I read in a newspaper: that the police
on the Bendigo diggings had arrested a man for trying to dispose of his
wife by a raffle; and I have no doubt that the man was "poor old Ned
Brumming!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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