I saw Ben take a chew of tobacco, so I guessed he was feeling better. In fact, I knew he was, for he spent the morning teaching me how to shoot craps. He insisted that I learn. I said I didn’t have any money to gamble with, but he says, “Don’t worry about that: you’ll gamble with my money and I’ll split the profits with you. You can’t lose!” “Why not? Why don’t you shoot, if it’s as easy as all that?” “Gawd, Leony, but you’re dumb!” he declared impatiently. “Don’t you know what Beginners’ Luck is? You never shot crap, therefore you’ll win. See?” So I learned how to shake ’em up and roll ’em out; how to bet, how not to bet; how to “talk to ’em” and what to do when they obeyed my orders. We were all set for the game which was sure to begin just after noon mess. Well, I don’t know just how to describe what happened. I was all aquiver with excitement: it was just as if I were going into a battle. We joined the game at the start and we were there at the finish. Between these two extremes was much of interest. Several of the ship’s crew came down to join in the game: sailors are supposed to be deadly crap shooters, I gathered from what I’d heard, and Ben insisted on betting against the dice for several rounds, “just to see what goes on here.” We just about broke even in this kind of play. The fourth time the dice came to me, Ben throws out a two-dollar bill and declares, “Canwick’ll shoot this time. Two bones.” Nobody swooped down on it at first, but finally a sailor flips out two one-dollar bills, saying, “Two dollar bills must be lucky for you guys.” Well, I shook up the dice very nonchalantly and let ’em fly across the money. The sailor laughed. It was a crap: a one and a one. “There’s your two, big boy,” said the sailor, pointing to the dice with the two up and gathering in the four dollars. A five spot fluttered by my face and Ben said, “Try a five and see if a five comes for us.” The sailor took two dollars of it and another soldier took the remaining three. I shook them up and rolled again. A four! Everybody started making side-bets on whether I’d seven or four or “on the next roll.” I rolled those damned dice until I was blue in the face. Roll ’em and go after ’em; roll ’em and go after ’em; over and over and over again, until I was sweating like a stuck pig. Side-bets were won and lost and everybody seemed to be making or losing or doing something one way or the other, except me. Ben placed bets, won and lost on the rolls. And then at last I rolled out a beautiful seven. Our five dollars were gone. Seven dollars in all. I felt rather hectic and turned to Ben, ready to quit. “Get back there!” he commanded. “Don’t you know it’s never good luck to win right off?”