Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

him, recognisin;^ the coloured haiKlyman , who tlicl odd jobs about the sliop. " Wliat do you want?" "Mistah Nick," the daikie announced, "dcie's a lady outside what wants to see you." "How do you know she's a lady, Snake Eyes?" The daikie grinned, anij mirth lurked in the whites of his rolling optics. "Well, boss, she done got a skirt on," he murmured. "All right," said Nick, Ir.ughing, "I'll see her." Mitros Bikelas laid a hand on his arm. "Don't forget to remember, boss," he observed prophetically. " ' Lucky weeth the cards, onlucky weeth lov'.' " "Ah, tliat's a lotta bunkcroo," Nick rejoined. "Don't forget to femeinber —I'm lucky with the women, too." "But mebbe sometime you gonna pick de wrong filly," Bikelas muttered, whereupon Nick chuckled placidly. "Not a chance," he drawled, inspect- ing himself appraisingly in a mirror. "Nothing but favourites in my stable. Well, lady, here I come." And he made his way out into the street, where he found a flaxen-haired, innocent-eyed girl of his acquamtance awaiting him. "Oh, Nick," she said in a <listracted tone, "I've got to have some money right away." She proceeded to tell him a hard-up story that touched the little barber's heart, and before she was fairly through with it he interrupted her gently. "How much do you need?" he asked. "I've got to have a hundred dollars," lihe told him in a pathetic little whisper. "Well, you know Nick," he said, pat- ting her on the shoulder, and forthwith produced a wad of bills. He took one from the top of the sheaf. It was a note that had received rough handling in its time. Its corners were frayed, and at one time it had been torn in halves, the two fragments hav- ing been gummed together again with strips of sf-amp paper. Nick casually noticed its condition as he handed it over. "Gee, you're a swell fellow," the girl told him with a wealth of gratitude in her voice. "Glad to do it," Nick assured her. "Glad to do it, baby." They parted. Nick did not see the girl make straig'ht for a shop iloorway and hand the hundred-dollar bill to a tall man in a slouch hat who liad been waiting in the shadows there. For by the time the note had been passed over to the loiterer Nick was already back with' his cronies. Snake Eyes was sti^ there, and, with the true negro's weakness for a dice- game, proclaimed his intention of mak- ing a bet on the "bones." "Who'll give mc lialf-a-dol!ah fo' mah hand?" he called, as he made his hrst throw, "I wouldn't give a nickel for your whole body," Nick grinned. "No vivi- section hospital would take it as a gift." The nigger was hardly listening. His eyes wore fastened on the dice, which liad now come to rest. "Eight's t!ie iM)int," lie said. "Ah'll bet a dollah, Mistah Nick." Nick, as banker, took the bet, and collected the money when Snake Eyes threw a fatal seven. "Up pops <le Devil," the darkie mur- mured .sadly. "Mislah Nick, you sho' is one lucky white man." Nick looked at him shrewdly. September 2€th, 1931, BOY'S CINEMA "You got carfare home, Snake Eyes?" he asked. "No, suh, I ain't, boss," was the answer. "I ain't got a red cent." "Then take this," said Nick, pushing some money into his dusky paw. "And stay out of this game from now on." He turned back to the table, and at the same moment became aware that a tall man in a slouch hat had appeared in the room, and was elbowing his way to tJio fore. The geniality faded from Nick's countenance as he recognise<l in the iiewcf>mer a certain "Sport" Wil- liams, whom he had no reason to admire. Even gamblers have their scale of honour and respectabifity, and Nick knew Williams for a sponger and a rogue. "Say," he mentioned, barring the way with his arm, "we're not takin' any two-bit bets to-night, Sport." Williams scowled. " I'm not makin' any two-bit bets to- night," he said. "Does that look like two bits to you?" He threw down a hundred-dollar bill, and Nick picked it up. At once his glance became riveted on it, for he saw that the corners of the note were frayed, and tJiat at one time it had been torn in two, then pasted together again with stamp paper. Nick's face hai-dened. So the pitiful story of the flaxen-haired girl had been just a trick, engineered by Williams to secure ready cash, break in on, the dice- game and play his luck against the little barber's. And the proverbial Venizelos' luck had already been in the balance against him when Nick had chanced to give that: girl a note that lent itself so readily to recognition. "I'll shoot ten of that hundred," Wil- liams said. Nick !ookc<l up. His eyes seemed to bore into the sponger. "You'll shoot all of it or nothing," he rapped out. "Eh?" Williams blurted. "Say, what are you talkin' about?" "You heard me—you'll shoot the hundred or nothing!" Williams hesitated, and then nodded reluctantly. "All right," ho growled. "Shoot the piece." The rest of the gi'oup gathered round to watch the play, for hundred-dollar bets were rai'e occurrences in the back room of the Irontown barber's shop. The dice began to roll, and looking on excitedK-, the bystanders quoted the numbers that turned up. "Three and two. The point is five." Again they rolled, and: "A six, and the Sport wants a five." The rattle of the " bones " as they were picked up and returned to the box seemed fo eclio those words: "The S]K)rt wants a five." Once more tho little white cubes danced over the table. They came to rest, and a murmur arose at the sight of that number which is the dice-playei's despair. "Seven makes Williams a loser!" "Huh!" grunted Nick Venizelos, pocketing his patched hundrcKi-dollar bill. "And the prisoner ate a hearty breakfast. Go on, Williams—breeze— scram—pull your freight. And as you go out that door take tho ' Welcome' sign oil it." Williams departed savagely^ and Nick turned to resume tho game. But he found the boys unwilling to take any further chances, for it was plain that tho little barber's luck was running e.«pecialiy strong to-night. "Say, Nick," observed one of them Every Tuesday conversationally, "you're wasting your time in a small tank like this. You should be in that big game in the city. Why, Hickory Short would be a cincb for you." The speaker was a travelling sales- man who had occasion to visit New York pretty frecjuently, and the Hickory Short he had mentioned was perhaps one of the greatest gamblei's of a city that almost boasted of its personalities in that sphere—though now and then they were singled out for attention by the police. "You ain't kidding me, are you?" asked Nick. "You see," he added re- flectively, "I've been kind of thinking, myself, that this town's getting too soft for me. How much do you figure it would take to bust in on that game in the big city, anyhow?" The salesman shrugged. "Well, a fellow sliouldn't try to bust in on it unless he has at least ~ ten thousand dollars." Ten thousand dollars was an amount that the big city gamblers lost in an evening without turning a hair, but to the small-time plungers of Irontown it was a fortune, and the salesman's esti- mate was received with awe. "Ten thousand bucks," Nick mused, while the rest of the fellows were com- menting on thfe magiiificenco of the sum. "I'll have that one day!" His dark, live eyes were agleam. " And when I do, I'll show those city birds something!" It was Jack who conceived the inspira- tion that was to equip Nick for the big city game earlier than he anticipated^'' '•' "Say, listen," the young assistant Ex- claimed, " why don't we make up a pool amongst us, and stake Nick to that Hickory Short racket ? I'll put in all I've got for a start." "You can bank on mc for a coupla hundred," declared the salesman who had been to New York. Nick looked round. "That's a great idea!" he jerked. " Wliy, I could raise five thousand on the barber shop." "I geev' you da thousand dollar what I was gonna send back for my wife to bring her here," cried Mitros Bikelas excitedly, and from all around came offers of various other amounts. Nick wandered thoughtfully to the far side of tlie room. A bii-d-cage hung from the ceiling, and a coverlet droojied over it. The little barber took off tlie coverlet to reveal a twittering canary bird, a tiny creature on which he lavished a tremendous amount of affec- tion. "Well, Blondie," he asked, "what do you say about us two going to the big city, huh?" Then, turning all at once' with an odd, pent-up laugh, "Boys," he proclaimed, "you're on!" "Attaboy, Nicky!" Jack said. "And you'll knock tliose big city gamblers for a loop." Thus it came about that, two or three days later, Nick Venizelos prepared to step aboard the New York train with something just over ten' thousand dollars in his wallet. He was attirc<l in the classiest suit tliat the best tailor in Ii-ontown could provide, carried a brand-new valise in one hand and Blondie's cage in tho other. Around him, as he stood on the steps of a Pullman car, a crowd of his associates gathered—the men financially intereste<l in his trip, and a party of former girl friends—every one of them as fair as he was dark. Snake Eyes was among those present, and, edging his way to tho front, ho handed Nick a rabbit's foot. "Jes' keep that in yo' pocket, Mistah