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Show page 226 Come side b e t s , believers and infidels, and the shooter backs up and jumps. "I a i n ' t got nothing but money, marbles and chalk, a Cadillac car and I'm too proud to walk!" A rich man i s in the game. "Here, I got enough to burn up a wet mule." "Down i t and get from 'round i t then." These, our gambling c i t i z e n s , are a kneebending c i r c l e , a long way from nowhere, ten times faster than action at a racetrack. Everybody's nine feet t a l l , expansive of speech and orb, knows twenty comes after nineteen. Hustling Americans, they bet on the come, on making t h e i r point; gamblers a l l , in the boondocks. The dice t r a v e l from hand to hand, with human and cosmic potentialities unlimited. Fewky abstains but calls the cadence, and takes a five percent whop on every whack. Everything is as pure as spring water, just as clean and as honest as a hardshell preacher's daughter, u n t i l one of the inconsequentia voices a doubt. Fewky squashes i t : "Scared man can't gamble, jealous man can't work. Don't wolf, fellow. I t e l l s you now 'fore you get too snotty, if you don't know what you doing you better ask somebody." The timid soul keeps muttering. Fewky peremptorily thumbs him out of the game. "Let the door h i t you where the dog bit you, right smack." Tangle Eye cups the dice, gives Jabbo a sly look. Jabbo was for years a gandy dancer on an extra gang, which is r a i l roading and sad. He i s muscled like a t i g e r s t r i p e d mule, as hard-HiO" -~«dUUi J ^ t h e s i l v e r dollars in his money b e l t. |