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of dollars, 111 be glad to give it to you. But don t try to take anything away from me. Nobody ever does/*
After he left, Bob Rowe walked up to me. At that time Bob was one of the big gamblers in New Orleans. He wore a diamond stud so big that he never could get no kind of tie that would hold it straight up. When he died some years ago, he owned strings of race horses. Bob was a good friend of mine and he said, "Kid, don t play that fellow no more."
"Why should I eliminate playing him? He brings me money here every day. Why should I pass up money?"
Bob said, "You know who you re playing?"
"Certainly I know—he's my sucker, that's who he is."
"Ill tell you his name/* said Bob, "And then you'll know him better."
"Okay," 1 said, "Let's have you divulge it."
He said, "That's Aaron Harris. . . /'
I came near passing out. Aaron Harris was, no doubt, the most heartless man I've ever heard of. He could chew up pig iron—the same thing that would cut a hog's entrails to pieces— and spit it out razor blades. That man was -terrible. A ready killer. I wouldn't be saying this now, but he's dead and gone. Old Boar Hog killed him.
Aaron pawned his pistol one night to play in a gambling game,
He pawned his pistol one night to play in a gambling game,
Then old Boar Hog shot him and blotted out his name.
But even Boar Hog was scared to come up to Aaron's face. He waited till he knew Aaron was unarmed and then shot him from ambush as he was crossing an alley in the early hours of the morning.
Well, I knew 1 wasn't no tough guy and 1 told Bob, "I will never play that gentleman no more. He can keep his money."
Bob looked at me a minute and then he said, "Why don't you