False Luck

"Put down ten," said one of the bystanders, a dark, sulky-looking
little yellow man, who seemed a veteran at these places. "You are
in luck--make the most of it."

The master of the ceremonies scowled upon the speaker; and this
determined me to obey his suggestions. I did so, and doubled the
money; left my original stake and the winnings on the same spot, and
doubled that also; and it was not long before, under this stimulus
of success, and the novelty of my situation, I found myself as
thoroughly anxious and intensely interested, as if I had gone to
the place in compliance with a natural passion. I know not how
long I had continued in this way, but I was still fortunate. I
had doubled my stakes repeatedly, and my pockets were crammed with
money.

"Stop now, if you are wise," whispered the same sulky-looking little
man who had before urged me to go on more boldly, as he sidled along
by me for this object; "never ride a good horse to death. There's
a time to stop just as there's a time to push. You had better stop
now. Stake another dollar and you lose all your winnings."

"Let the gentleman play his own game, Brinckoff. I don't see why
you come here to spoil sport."

Such was the remark of the keeper of the table. He had overheard
my counsellor. He felt his losses, and was angry. I saw that, and
it determined me. I took the counsel of the stranger. I was the
more willing to do so, as I reproached myself for my inattention
to my friend. It was time to see what had been his progress, and I
prepared to leave the theatre of my own success. Before doing so,
I turned to my counsellor, and thus addressed him: "Your advice has
made me win; I trust I will not offend a gentleman who has been so
courteous, by requesting him to take my place upon a small capital."