'round, "gents, I moves you the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club yereby stands
adjourned _sine die_." Thar's a moment's pause, an' then as by one
impulse every gent, hoss an' dog, says "Ay!" It's yoonanimous, an'
from that hour till now the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club ain't been nothin'
save tradition. But that panther shore disappears; it's the end of his
vandalage; an' ag'in does quadrilles, pra'rs, an poker resoom their
wonted sway. That's the end; an' now, gents, if Black Jack will caper
to his dooties we'll uplift our drooped energies with the usual forty
drops."




CHAPTER III.

How Faro Nell Dealt Bank.

"Riches," remarked the Old Cattleman, "riches says you! Neither
you-all nor any other gent is competent to state whether in the
footure he amasses wealth or not. The question is far beyond the
throw of your rope."

My friend's tone breathed a note of strong contradiction while his
glance was the glance of experience. I had said that I carried no
hope of becoming rich; that the members of my tribe were born with
their hands open and had such hold of money as a riddle has of water.
It was this which moved him to expostulatory denial.

"This matter of wealth, that a-way," he continued, "is a mighty sight
a question of luck. Shore, a gent has to have capacity to grasp a