SANDY’S GAMBLE.

Taranaki Daily News, 24 December 1921, Page 10

SANDY’S GAMBLE.

A TALE OF THE DESERT. ‘ HOW HE GOT HIS OWN BACK. (By W. Ewing, New Plymouth.)' “Ma name’s Donald Angus McLean McPherson an’ be damned t’ ye.” Captain Johnson was a thorough officer. That was 'the trouble. He was too thorough. A disclipinarian of the old school, he brooked no retorts, no blunders. no insubordination. To answer him back was fatal. All of which was very unfortunate for the self-styled Donald Angus McLean McPherson, known generally as ‘Sandy,’ for it was asking too much to expeot an O.C. Company to look down in smiling tolerance on this outburst from a mere private. Alas for Sandy, he was doomed. The next move was a certain as the fish for Friday’s breakfast or the bugle call each morning, and so the morrow found Sandy arraigned before the Orderly Room Court in all its awfulness. But let us pass quickly over this painful scene. His unshaven appearance was commented upon, his accoutrements criticised, his very boots regarded with suspicion, his whole Celtic nature not understood, and when all was said that could be said, they sentenced this -weather-beaten rover to sixty days’ imprisonment. “A dangerous character this, very.”

The damage was done. When one reduces an active body and a sensitive imagination like Sandy’s to two long months’ confinement one must expect him to come forth either broke and subdued or strong and more determined. Probably our Scotch-Colonial would have .been driven to melancholy had he not had something to oecupy his mind, something to dwell upon, to chew over, to think about, a thing that would interest him intensely and keep alive all his faculties. A born gambler, Sandy found his salvation in the evolution oi a system that would enable him to break every bank at the ‘Crown and

Anchor’ tables round there behind the pyramids. Oh, Sandy! The sixty days drew on as even days of durance’ will, and at last came the sixtieth and freedom. Not at all disheartened. by his confinement the Celtic blood burned with indignation against his chief witness. He stopped his Captain at the first opportunity, planted himself firmly before that astonished gentleman, drew himself to his full height, swelled out his massive chest and without salute or word of apology spoke loudly. “Ma name’s still Donald Angus MeLean McPherson aud be damned t’ ye again.” Then this very dangerous character turned and stalked scornfully away to join his comrades. “Cheerio Sandy! Say boys, here’s the old heathen at ’large again. Bet he’ll do his drill hard for the next few days.”

“How are they coming Sandy? Been up to kiss the Captain yet?” To this good natured raillery Sandy remained oblivious. He was leaning comfortably against the canteen bar. an untouched glass before him. One mighty fist was propping a head prolific with mousey-solored hair; the other was busily engaged in tracing rude diagrams and figuring with the stub of a pencil. Presently he roused himself, dropped the stub into his pocket, and wandered off to the dry canteen, where he bought a pad of paper and a new pencil, then returned to his mystified friends, for Sandy was no letter writer.

‘•D’ye ken this pad an this pencil ?” he asked with a smile. “Sure,” they agreed.

“Weel, A’m the inventor o’ an intirely new system o’ gamblin’. A thoucht it a’ oot o’ nights in yon tin hut wheer A hae been kepit this lang syne, but mind ye A havn’ a jest got ma calculeetions ready. Ye’ll hae just t’ bide a wee whilie till A’m certain, then A’ll be for lettin’ ye stan’ roon an’ watch me wee system at work. Only mind ye lads, ye’ are no t’ interfeer or make ower much bletherin’ wi’ yer tae lang tongues, f’feer A mich.t make mestakes, Noo, A’ll just be gangin’ along t’ our bit tent for t’ finish me calculeetions, so A’ll jest be wishing ye good nicht the noo.” •

“Now, what do you know about that?” remarked a tall youth. He swung round and threw up his arms in a helpless gesture. “The Lord have mercy on our Sandy. The poor fool musta gone nutty or been bitten by sumpin.” For the next two days we saw little of Sandy off parade, and then he always wore an expression of mingled triumph and secrecy so fixedly that it must have hurt. “A’m jest aboot teddy t’ gang after they philisteens, but A’ must hae more siller,” he said at last. It soon became known that those who owed him money were being pressed for payment, that he had cabled home —at full rate—an urgent request for all he possessed in cash, and was even raising the wind by sundry visits to the bazaars end shops,’ whose proprietors were not very particular as to the origin of the goods supplied. Oh! yes, numerous pieces of equipment were missed in those days, and many were the complaints made about lost boots and other articles of issue. About two weeks after that night in the canteen, Sandy turned up at -the gambling ground —a convenient corner of the desert just behind the pyramids —well primed with liquid refreshment, a sheef of many pages and much figuring. also a roll of about £2OO in notes. Behind him a wee Egyptian boy staggered along, bowed nearly double by the weight of his own troubles and the array of bottles purchased by Sandy to provide the necessary stimulation, and, at times, inspiration to proceed. “Come along, ma wee mannie,” he 'encouraged, “Ye be black ye sei and the lights ar eno sae bricht that if A’ did’na keep ye close, A’ micht lose ye a’ the-

gether. Auch ey! Ye ken it’s no yer sei A’m worritin’ aboot, it’s the baskit ye’r a carryin.’ ” He sat down at one' of the boards and by dint of much pushing and squeezing secured a place for his papers, which he kept in position by a bottle at each corner. For a long while he couldn’t find the beginning and eventually must have commenced betting at the wrong place, for he lost all his first ventures. However, despite the gibes from the crowd of onlookers Sandy had in his system some of that faith which if differently applied might have moved mountains.

He made a few corrections, smiled triumphantly and made a fresh start. Still something seemed wrong. Every time he made a small bet he won, but all the heavy ones he lost. Each time he lost Sandy had a drink, and each time he won he had another. At the end of an hour’s play Sandy was reduced to his last ten pounds, and all the inspiration gone. For several minutes he studied the infallible system, and glanced longingly with 'a drunken gravity at an empty bottle between his feat Lheu dulibaxaiely folded his pap-

ers and thrust them into his tunic pocket.

For the next half dozen throws of the di(?e Sandy remained seated close to the board, immovably watching other players flirting with the fickle goddess who had so basely deserted him. To a casual observer he appeared very drunk indeed, but after a searching scrutiny that impression was shaken. Those hands, they lacked any expected unsteadiness, the eyes were without that lusterless quality which bespeaks a befuddled brain, tfbe facial mitscles did jjiot twitch nor his eyelids quiver. Indeed, like many of his race, our Scot could carry much liquor, yet be perfectly conscious of his surroundings and think and act normally. To those‘around it seemed his losses had subdued the confident spirit, and he only remained in sullen fascination for the morbid joy of watching others lose. In reality he was keenly watching every 'throw of the dice, for now a growing suspicion that they had been loaded against him had become a certainty. He saw the whole plot clearly; fool that he had been. Openly in the canteens he had boasted of his ’system, he had extolled its merits to his friends, but others had been near. He had come prepared to win their money. They had come determined that no system, however good, would be allowed to have even a fair chance to prove itself. Resentment burned within him, and Sandy fiercely resolved 'to meet trickery with trickery, swindle with swindle. So now he sat waiting his chance. Presently the impetus of a throw brought one of the three dice well across the board with a diamond uppermost. Sandy reached out, picked up the ivory bauble, handled it a second, then passed it back. He spoke no word but his wrinkled old face, ludicrous with a beery satisfaction, looked up at the circle of onlookers and gloried with anticipation. Then he deliberately placed the survivors of his one time imposing pile upon the diamond. The monotonous voice of the caller droned out its last appeal for bets. The dice were shaken afresh beneath the upturned box. A moment’s hesitation, then—“A crown and 'two diamonds.” Sandy had doubly won and his ten pounds had become thirty. Instantly the old man became a popuJar figure again, but, taking no heed of the acclamations, he calmly signified his intention to bet the £3O. ’Mid breathless silence other bets were placed, the box rattled, the dice thrown, and—Oh! you goddess—Sandy had won again. Persistent he had been while losing, consistent he remained while winning, and so 'the £6O stayed on the diamond. In quick succession Sandy won twice more, when his winnings totalled £240, while those who had followed his lead were also many pounds to the good. At this stage Sandy appeared uncertain whether to take what the gods had so generously given, and be con-tent or to tempt his luck once more. Finally he appeared to compromise by counting out £2OO (the amount of his original roll) and leaving the odd £4O to its fate. Other bets were placed, and soon the board became full, but just as the final warning was being given Sandy reached •forth, and demnnded to be allowed to examine the dice, a privilege usually conceded and one which if refused leads to suspicion.

“A’m very much o’ the opeenion that they wee bits o’ bone dinna run true. So A’ll just 'be havin' a bit lookit,” said he, and forthwith gathered up the three small cubes. Still talking inaudibly, he examined each dice carefully, then restored them to their owner with a grudging apology, but, before the box could be shaken anew, the wily Sandy removed thirty-five of his forty pound bet, so that he stood to lose only five and these he moved from the diamond to the heart.

The throw was made; the three symbol read, “A heart, a ‘hook’, and a spade,” and although it occasioned a good deal of comment that no diamond had turned up after the extraordinary run of that number, the old man appeared entirely satisfied and gathering up his winnings prepared to depart. “A ken weel, if A made another richt good bet ye could’ha pay .it; so A’ll bid ye a’ a very good nicht the noo,” and without further parley lurched off to his tent.

I met Sandy in a quiet corner of the feed shelters a day or two later, and commented upon his wonderful change of luck after discarding the carefully prepared system.

“Weel,” he grumbled, “Hae ye no powers o’ observation that ye did’na notice they dice were loaded agin me?” “No,” I confessed, “I was too interested in the play to pay much attention to the roll of the ivories.”

“It’s no surprising,” he resumed, “A did’na see it masel till almost ower late, then A jest hided ma time till wan o’ they deevil’s playthings rolled near, then A quietly substeetuted anether wan wi’ diamonds a’ over it. ’Twas no easy matter to notice the deeceeption either, because a’ the bodies were sae interested in what was on top they paid no attention to the sides whatever. Weel, when A had won aboot a’ they could pay A jest askit to hae a look an’ feel the weicht o’ th’ dicee an’ A easily put back th’ wan A had taken away an’ kepit ma own. A was lucky t’ win again, jest luck that time, so" A came awa wi' ower twa tunnerd an feefty pounds i’ ma pocket. Auch ey! Meeby A did’na break ony o' they boards but A did’na do sa ill conseedering,”