I've done set an' see him give away his hand in a jack-pot for two
hundred dollars to some gent 'cross the table who's organizin' to go
ag'in him an' can't afford to lose. An' you can onderscore it; a
winnin' poker hand, an' him holdin' it, is the last thing a
thoroughbred kyard-sharp'll give away. But as I says, I sees this
Cherokee do it when the opp'sition is settin' in hard luck an'
couldn't stand to lose.
"How would he give his hand away? Throw it in the diskyard an' not
play it none; jest nacherally let the gent who's needy that a-way
rake in the chips on the low hand. Cherokee mebby does it this
fashion so's he don't wound the feelin's of this yere victim of his
gen'rosity. Thar's folks who turns sens'tive an' ain't out to take
alms none, who's feelin's he spar's that a-way by losin' to 'em at
poker what they declines with scorn direct. "'Benev'lent,' is the
way you puts it! Son, 'benev'lent' ain't the word. This sport
Cherokee Hall ain't nothin' short of char'table.
"Speakin' wide flung an' onrestrained, Cherokee, as I mentions to
you before, is the modestest, decentest longhorn as ever shakes his
antlers in Arizona. He is slim an' light, an' a ondoubted kyard-
sharp from his moccasins up.
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