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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Who were they?" inquired Houston. "Oh, there was Faro Dick and Slicky Sam, and a lot of 'em; Morgan wasn't no match for fellers like them, they was all too swift fer him." "How do you know?" "Oh, I seen 'em playin' lots o' times, and they're all reg'lar sharpers, 'n Morgan, he'd got reckless, 'n he didn't stan' no show against 'em."
At the time, they thought he had gone to borrow more money, and perhaps try his luck at some other place, but nothing more was seen of him, and they soon forgot the occurrence. When all was over and the crowd was slowly dispersing, Houston saw several members of the gambling fraternity approaching him, headed by the two designated by Bull-dog as Slicky Sam and Brocky Joe.
It's because you dassent" Then he began to sing: "In Washington City, oh, what a great pity, There'll be no Harrison there." Then we kind of changed seats around and Mr. Miller and my pa began to talk together, while John was talkin' to Mitch and me, and pointin' out the places of interest along the way. "Over thar," he says, "is whar Slicky Bill Wilson used to live."
Here were groups of slatternly, unkempt women, some of whom stared at him with brazen faces, while others slunk away, not quite lost to shame. At last they came to a rickety stair-way, and as they neared the top, Bull-dog whispered: "There's some of 'em now; that tall feller is Faro Dick, he deals down stairs, and the little, black feller is Slicky, and that short, fat one, that's Brocky Joe."
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