In the early history of travel on the great river, gambling was common, and nothing thought of it more than eating and drinking. When, therefore, breakfast was over the following morning, the gentlemen, who stood about in expectant groups, sat down to play, and from that time on, except when meals were served, there was little or no diminution of the game. Throughout the day and far into the night the play went on, sometimes with uproar and curses and show of pistols and huge bowie-knives, but more often without speech or movement of any kind. Around each group lookers-on gathered, but quietly, refraining from so much as touching the chairs of players, lest the latter be unlucky in consequence. Many had charms, according to their fancy: one a hawk’s bill, another a mildewed penny, another the toenail of a murderer; but above all other things, a rabbit’s foot was thought to be most efficacious for bringing good luck. When these devices failed, new cards were called for, or men exchanged seats, no means being left untried to propitiate the goddess of good fortune. In such simple ways as these are the minds of gamesters sustained and diverted, not here or there only, but the world over. Of the players, some had the semblance of calmness, others were irritable, some truculent; all observant. The panther about to spring upon his prey could not be more watchful or less pitying. The game was always the same—poker; and if by chance a chair was vacated, it was quickly filled by another so that there was never any falling off in number or interest. The players were one and all oblivious of their surroundings, or if the passing of a boat or other happening caused an idle craning of the neck, it was without interest or consciousness. Lust of money lighted up every countenance, and in this there was no difference. Those who lost were morose, some profane; others, half-crazed, cried out pitifully, like children. All, however, were alike anxious and resentful. Those who won were less repulsive than the others, but not less greedy, reaching out for their winnings with glistening eyes and soft chucklings, sometimes with boisterous hilarity, for flesh and blood cannot stand everything. A glance told who were winners, who losers; wrinkled foreheads and anxious faces, oftentimes trembling hands, marking the latter. With the former there was a certain comfort of ease, but they were not the less alert and watchful, lest opportunity for gain should pass unnoticed. Avarice here made no effort to conceal its ugliness, but stood without garments, shameless and unconfused, striving by cunning and bravado, or the mere act of waiting and watching, to satisfy its cravings. This not strangely, for such is ever the case where money is at stake, though the novelty of the situation and the tenderness of men’s hearts may rob the practice of its repulsive features in the case of gentlemen and novices.