Beryl Mae Macomber was aiding the Belgians by running out in the big
room to drum up the stragglers. She was now being Little Nugget, the
Miners' Pet; and when she wasn't chasing in easy money she'd loll at one
end of the bar with a leer on her flowerlike features to entice honest
workingmen in to lose their all at the gaming tables. There was
chuck-a-luck and a crap game going, and going every minute, too, with
Cousin Egbert trying to start three-card monte at another table--only
they all seemed wise to that. Even the little innocent children give him
the laugh.
I went over to the roulette table and lost a few dollars, not being able
to stick long, because other women would keep goring me with their
elbows. Yes, sir; that layout was ringed with women four deep. All that
the men could do was stand on the outside and pass over their loose
silver to the fair ones. Sure! Women are the only real natural-born
gamblers in the world. Take a man that seems to be one and it's only
because he's got a big streak of woman in him, even if it don't show any
other way. Men, of course, will gamble for the fun of it; but it ain't
ever funny to a woman, not even when she wins.
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