The Tale of Timber Town

The game continued, with fluctuations of luck which were usually in the digger’s favour.

But the rattling of the dice had attracted attention in the bar, and, lured by that illusive music, four men approached the room where the gamblers sat.

“No intrusion, I hope,” said the leader of the gang, pushing open the door.

“Come in, come in,” cried Tresco, barely glancing at the newcomers, so intent was he on the game.

They entered, and stood round the table: an ugly quartette. The man who had spoken was short, thick-set, with a bullet head which was bald on the top, mutton-chop whiskers, and a big lump under his left ear. The second was a neat, handsome man, with black, glittering eyes, over which the lids drooped shrewdly. The third was a young fellow with a weak face, a long, thin neck and sloping shoulders; and the fourth, a clean-shaven man of heavy build, possessed a face that would have looked at home on the shoulders of a convict. He answered to the name of Garstang.

“Dolphin,” said he to the man with the lump, “cut in.”

“No, no; let it be Carnac,” said Dolphin, looking at the keen-eyed man, who replied, “I pass it on to young William.”

“Gor’ bli’ me, why to me?” exclaimed the stripling. “I never strike any luck. I hand the chanst back to you, Carny.”

The man with the shrewd eyes sat down at the table, on which he first placed some money. Then he said in a clear, pleasant voice:

“You’ve no objection, I suppose, to a stranger joining you?”

“Not at all, not at all,” said the genial Benjamin.

“If you’re meanin’ me” – the digger glanced at the company generally – “all I’ve got to say is: the man as increases the stakes is welcome.”

They threw, and the digger won.

“That’s the style,” said he, as he took the pool. “That’s just as it oughter be. I shout for the crowd. Name your poisons, gentlemen.” He rang the bell, and Gentle Annie appeared, radiant, and supreme. She held a small tray in one hand, whilst the other, white and shapely, hung at her side. As the men named their liquors, she carefully repeated what they had ordered. When Carnac’s turn came, and she said, “And yours?” the handsome gambler stretched out his arm, and, drawing her in a familiar manner towards him, said, “You see, boys, I know what’s better than any liquor.”

In a moment Gentle Annie had pulled herself free, and was standing off from the sinister-faced man.

“Phaugh!” she said with disgust, “I draw the line at spielers.”

“You draw the line at nothing that’s got money,” retorted the owner of the glittering eyes, brutally.

“Gentlemen,” said Gentle Annie, with a touch of real dignity in her manner, “I have your orders.” And she withdrew modestly, without so much as another glance at Carnac.

The play continued till her return. She handed round glasses to all but the handsome gambler.

“And where’s mine?” asked he.

“You forgot to order it,” said she. “I’ll send the pot-boy to wait on you.” In a perfectly affable manner she took the money from the uncouth digger, and then, throwing a disdainful glance at Carnac, she tossed her head defiantly, and went out.

The game continued. Now Tresco’s pile of money was increased, now it had dwindled to a few paltry pounds. The digger looked hot and excited as he, too, lost. Carnac, wearing a fixed, inscrutable smile, won almost every throw.

The gambler’s feverish madness was beginning to seize Tresco as it had already seized his friend, but at last he was stopped by lack of funds.

“How much have you on you, Bill?” he asked of the Prospector.

“How much have I got, eh?” said Bill, emptying his pockets of a large quantity of gold and bank-notes. “I reckon I’ve enough to see this little game through and lend a mate a few pounds as well.”

“I’ll trouble you for fifty,” said Tresco, who scribbled an IOU for the amount mentioned on the back of an envelope, and handed it to the digger.

The man with the lump on his neck had seated himself at the table.

“I think, gents, I’ll stand in,” said he. “You two are pals, and me and Carnac’s pals. Makes things equal.” He placed three pounds in the pool.

“Hold on,” Carnac interrupted. “I propose a rise. Make it £5 a corner – that’ll form a Kitty worth winning – the game to be the total of three throws.”

“Consecutive?” Tresco asked.

“Consecutive,” said the digger. “It avoids a shindy, and is more straightfor’ard.”

A pool of £20 was thus made up, and the play continued.

The innocent youth who answered to the name of William stood behind Tresco’s chair and winked at Garstang, whose loosely-made mouth twitched with merriment.

“Don’t be rash, Dolly,” remarked Young William to the man with the hideous neck, who held the dice box. “Think of your wife an’ kids in Sydney before you make yer throw. You’re spoilin’ my morals.”

“Go outside, and grow virtuous in the passage.” Dolphin made his throws, which totalled twenty-six.

Tresco followed with eighteen. The digger’s and Carnac’s chances still remained.

So lucky on the diggings, so unlucky in town, Bill the Prospector took the box with a slightly trembling hand and rattled the dice. His first throw was twelve, his second eleven. “Even money I beat you,” he said to Dolphin.

“Garn,” replied that polite worthy. “What yer givin’ us? D’you take me for a flat?”

The digger threw, and his score totalled thirty.

“P’r’aps, mister,” he said, turning to Carnac, “you’d like to take me up. Quid to quid you don’t beat me.”

The glittering eyes fixed themselves on the digger. “You’re too generous, sir,” said the gentlemanly Carnac. “Your score is hard to beat. Of course, I mean to try, but the odds are in your favour.”

“I’ll make it two to one,” said the digger.

“Well, if you insist,” replied Carnac, “I’ll accommodate you.” He placed his pound upon the table, and made his first throw – ten.

“Shake ’er up, Carny,” cried Young William. “I back you. No deception, gentlemen; a game which is nothing but luck.”

The suave gambler’s next throw was eleven.

“An even pound you lose, mister,” said William to the digger.

“Done,” cried the Prospector. “Put out the money.”

Carnac threw twelve, said, “The little lady’s mine,” and took the pool.

The digger handed two pounds to the winner and a pound note to Young William who, crumpling his money in his palm, said, “Oysters for supper and a bottle of fizz – there’ll be no end of a spree.”

The monotonous round of the game continued, till Tresco’s borrowed money had dwindled to but five pounds, which was enough for but one more chance with the dice.