the circus that Johnny Thompson found himself walking. He had taken his coffee and fried eggs at a restaurant that backed “Boul Mich.” He was now in search of Pant, also hoping for things to turn up, which, presently, they did.

So Johnny sauntered slowly along the broad walk bordering the Lake Front park.

Here and there he paused to study the faces of men who sat munching their breakfast. Faces always interested him, and besides, he knew full well that some of the sharpest as well as the lowest criminals follow a circus.

His course was soon arrested by the hoarse half whisper of a man to the right of him. About this man—a white man—was gathered a knot of other men.

“Five, if you pick the black card. Try your luck! Try it, brother. Five dollars, if you pick the lucky card.” These were the words the man whispered.

Johnny edged his way to the center of the group. In shady places at the back of great country picnics, or in secluded sheds at county fairs, he had seen this game played many a time, but to find it in a Chicago park seemed unbelievable. Yet, here it was. A broad shouldered man, with an irregular mouth and a ragged ear, evidently badly mauled in some fight, stood with a newspaper held flat before him. On the paper, face down, were three ordinary playing cards. The slim, tapering fingers of the man played over the cards, as a pianist’s fingers play over the keys. Now he gathered them all up to toss them one by one, face up, on the paper.

“See, gents; two reds and a black! Watch it! There it is! There it is! Now, there! Five dollars, if you pick the lucky card! Five to me if you lose.”

He shot an inquiring glance toward Johnny. Johnny remained silent.

A short, stout man thrust a five dollar bill into the conman’s hand. His trembling fingers turned a card. It was red. With an oath he struggled out of the ring.

“Can’t hit it always, brother,” a smirky smile overspread the conman’s face.

“Well, now, I’ll make it easy. There it is! Leave it there. Who will try? Who will try?”

A young man wearing a green tie passed over a ten dollar bill.

“Make it all or nothing. All or nothing,” chuckled the operator.

 Prev. P 11/98 next