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Show ALWAYS THE GAMBLER By Lyle Pace TPHE town of Cedar Gulch was ; sleeping when Matt Latham rode his mare down the main street. It wasn't much of a town, he thought, but it would do until he got a stake again. He noticed a sign In the moonlight, the biggest sign in town, advertising the Half Crown Saloon. Matt knew, there'd be a saloon, there always was. But supposing there hadn't been one? He felt grimy after his long ride and was anxious to sleep again on s bed. He'd been four days on the trail. Four days too long. He registered at the small desk and arranged for the care of his mare. He found his room, washed up and collapsed on the bed, almost al-most asleep before he hit the blanket. He slept until eleven. When he'd dressed in his change of suit, he left the hotel and headed for the Half Crown. It wasn't much, as bars went, he told himself. Probably not more than a hundred dollars among the lot, He took his glass and wandered wan-dered over to the poker table. "A quarter better," one of the men said, tossing In a coin. "I got you licked, Jake, and you know it." He smiled good naturedly, and fingered his cards. "Beats me," Sam said, throwing throw-ing in his cards. "King high straight." the bettor said. Jake threw down his hand. "Three aces. Can you tie that, Sam? Three aces for the first time In weeks, and he pulls a straight on me." He stood up and walked to the bar. "I guess that breaks up the game, Tom," Sam said. "Two playin Is no fun." He paused and looked at Matt. "Say, how about you, young fella? Know how to play poker?" Matt smiled and sat down. It was almost too easy. Matt soon got the stakes higher and now there were tens and twenties twen-ties in the pot But that had been all he'd succeeded In doing. Although Al-though Matt had lost steadily in the past hour, as was his usual procedure, both Tom and Sam were not raising to the bait. "Well, Ruess I'll get back to work," Tom said. "Comln', Sam?" "Yep." He turned to Matt. "Thanks, stranger. Thanks for the contribution." The two men sauntered to the door and disappeared into the street. Matt slumped in his chair, not quite believing what had Just happened. "Welcome to the Half Crown, mister," a friendly voice said behind be-hind Matt. He whirled in his chair, looked up at a tall, heavy set man who was grinning widely. The big man extended his hand. "Name's Morgan. Jeffery P. Morgan, owner own-er and manager. At your service, Mr. Mr. ?" Matt got to his feet and took the hand. "Latham," he said. "Call me Matt." "All right, Matt. How about a drink on the house." He guided Matt to the bar. When the drinks were brought, Morgan lifted his glass. "To your health, Mr. Latham. I mean Matt." Morgan downed his glass and set it on the bar. "How was the game?" He nodder1 to the table. "Get your money's worth?" "Matt shrugged. "Live and learn," he said. "They nearly cleaned me." Morgan chuckled. "Sure. I could have told you that. Nobody in their right mind will play poker with Sam and Tom Brewster." Morgan's Mor-gan's eyes narrowed slightly. "No professional gambler will, anyway." any-way." "And what does that mean?" Matt said. "It means," Morgan went on, "that you just got took by the sharpest pair of poker players ever to put boots under a table. Why, those guys don't even travel around any more. Just stay here and wait for suckers like you." |