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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Any news to-day from Jackpot Number Three?" asked the president of that company. "Bob Hart sent in to get some supplies and had a note left for me at the post-office," Miss Joyce mentioned, a trifle annoyed at herself because a blush insisted on flowing into her cheeks. "He says it's the biggest thing he ever saw, but it's going to be awf'ly hard to control. Where is that note?
We're old friends," predicted West confidently. Crestfallen, he met the two officers of the Jackpot Company three hours later. "Couldn't get to him. Sent word out he was sorry, an' how was Mrs. West an' the children, but he was in conference an' couldn't break away." Dave nodded. He had expected this and prepared for it. "I've found out he's going on the eight o'clock flyer.
He and Dave were alone in the Jackpot offices when the latter forced himself to open a subject that had always been closed between them. Sanders came to it reluctantly. No man had ever found a truer friend than he in Bob Hart. The thing he was going to do seemed almost like a stab in the back. "How about you and Joyce, Bob?" he asked abruptly. The eyes of the two met and held.
Every miner had a pack of cards in his cabin if not in his pocket, and generally so soiled and greasy that one could not tell the jack from the king. Gambling was common and open in Denver and Mountain City, and not unusual elsewhere. Playing for gain was never practiced in our cottage. When poker was played, beans were put in the jackpot instead of money.
"As a Jacksonian Democrat, I views with alarm the play the Greenbackers make for fusion, which the same is a brace game." Mr. Gibson also allowed that fusion should be coppered by Nevada, and Noisy Smith whispered his assent, and the resolutions were adopted unanimously. The disposition of the jackpot was then considered. Col.
He'd gotten what he could carry from the aidvan, but there was a better than even chance the car itself held something useful, this far from any settlements. He checked, finding more blankets and rations, a military-issue medikit and the jackpot, a fusion lamp/stove combination.
If his education in books was lopsided, it was in some respects more thorough than that of many a college boy. Dave did not explain all this. He let his simple statement of fact stand without enlarging on it. His life of late years had tended to make him reticent. "Heard from Burns yet about that fishin' job on Jackpot Number Three?" Bob asked Crawford.
Andy beckoned again, more emphatically than before, and Big Medicine, who loved a fight as he loved to win a jackpot, turned and glared at the man in the doorway as he passed. Slim was rumbling by-golly ultimatums in his fat chest when he came up. "Pink, you go on back and put the boys next, when they come up with the drag they won't do anything much but hand out a few remarks and ride on."
A carpenter working on the roof of a derrick for Jackpot Number Six called down to his mates: "Fire in the hills, looks like. I see smoke." The contractor was an old-timer. He knew the danger of fire in the chaparral at this season of the year. "Run over to Number Four and tell Crawford," he said to his small son. Crawford and Hart had just driven out from town.
All around him was loud laughter and talk, the gurgle of liquor, the smells of cooked meat, a choking concentration of tobacco smoke. Music blared furiously. "Busht out shummore!" somebody was hollering. "We got jackpot the whole fanshy works! I almost think I'm back in Sputtsberg wherever hell that is... But where's the wimmin? Nothing but dumb, prissy pitchers! Not even good pitchers...!"
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