States Courts and whatever
other federal power he needed. Robert F. Cinch enjoyed his victory four
months. Then he died, and young Bobbie Cinch came to New York in order
to more clearly demonstrate that there was a good deal of fun in
twenty-two million dollars.

Old Henry Spuytendyvil owns all the real estate in New York save that
previously appropriated by the hospitals and Central Park. He had been a
friend of Bob's father. When Bob appeared in New York, Spuytendyvil
entertained him correctly. It came to pass that they just naturally
played poker.

One night they were having a small game in an up-town hotel. There were
five of them, including two lawyers and a politician. The stakes
depended on the ability of the individual fortune.

Bobbie Cinch had won rather heavily. He was as generous as sunshine, and
when luck chases a generous man it chases him hard, even though he
cannot bet with all the skill of his opponents.

Old Spuytendyvil had lost a considerable amount. One of the lawyers from
time to time smiled quietly, because he knew Spuytendyvil well, and he
knew that anything with the name of loss attached to it sliced the old
man's heart into sections.

At midnight Archie Bracketts, the actor, came into the room. "How you
holding 'em, Bob?" said he.

"Pretty well," said Bob.

"Having any luck, Mr. Spuytendyvil?"

"Blooming bad," grunted the old man.

Bracketts laughed and put his foot on the round of Spuytendyvil's chair.
"There," said he, "I'll queer your luck for you." Spuytendyvil sat at
the end of the table. "Bobbie," said the actor, presently, as young
Cinch won another pot, "I guess I better knock your luck." So he took
his foot from the old man's chair and placed it on Bob's chair. The lad
grinned good-naturedly and said he didn't care.

Bracketts was in a position to scan both of the hands. It was Bob's
ante, and old Spuytendyvil threw in a red chip. Everybody passed out up
to Bobbie. He filled in the pot and drew a card.

Spuytendyvil drew a card. Bracketts, looking over his shoulder, saw him
holding the ten, nine, eight, and seven of diamonds. Theatrically
speaking, straight flushes are as frequent as berries on a juniper tree,
but as a matter of truth the reason that straight flushes are so admired
is because they are not as common as berries on a juniper tree.
Bracketts stared; drew a cigar slowly from his pocket, and placing it
between his teeth forgot its existence.

Bobbie was the