The Incorrigible by L Sprague De Camp

Author:L Sprague De Camp [Camp, L Sprague de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci Fi Short Story
Publisher: Astounding Science Fiction
Published: 1939-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

THE GAME started at eight—all the nannies in Sarratt’s herd having been milked, despite the little man’s protests, to provide refreshments. By eight-thirty a stiff wind drove gusts of rain against the windows. Flynn said, “Boy#

I’m glad Tin indoors tonight. Who wants kyahds?”

“Five” said Ryerson.

Methuen swore under his breath. He was a cautiously mathematical player, and had been winning slowly. It hurt him to see the big ornithologist plunge that way.

“How abote you, Johnny ?” The bear tapped the table three times, and Flynn shoved the cards across. Johnny held his hand between two toes of his left forefoot. One at a time he pinched three of these cards between the toes of his other front paw and lifted them out. He reversed the process with the cards lie had drawn.

“Dealer’s keeping what he has,” said Flynn. Methuen called for one. On the first round of betting the two scientists dropped. Johnny and Flynn pushed the pot up a way before the former called. Flynn had queens over tens to Johnny’s aces over threes.

Ryerson bellowed. “Ho, ho! We thought you had a real pat hand! We’ll know better next time. Another round ?’’

Flynn grinned and pushed the pot toward Johnny. All four (including Johnny, who held his glass in both paws) downed another pint of goat-beer. Flynn looked suspiciously at the others to make sure they drank as much as he did; they returned his scrutiny for the^ same reason.

At nine, rain descended in sheets. Methuen was ahead with Flynn close behind. Methuen realized that he’d been making mistakes in his calculations, probably as a result of the enormous amount of goat-beer they’d drunk. It was powerful stuff. He’d have to concentrate more closely. He thought sadly that he’d been mistaken in undertaking to out-drink a Southern politician. And that smooth devil probably knew it too.

At ten, Methuen w’as losing heavily; his mathematics stood up less well than

Flynn’s all-around gambling experience. Ryerson had acquired a thick Norwegian accent.

At eleven Ryerson had dropped out, and wras crooning a Norwegian drinking song to himself. Methuen, not much better off, tried to continue his play. Flynn was more Southern and jovial than ever. Johnny continued imperturbably to down his beer and signal for cards.

At one minute to twelve Methuen roused himself to look at his watch. “Last hand,” he said, after what seemed to be difficulty in untangling his tongue from his teeth.

Flynn shoved in a small bet. Johnny raised a little; Flynn made a bigger raise. Johnny dropped.

“Johnny, All’ll never speak to you ag’in,” moaned Flynn. “Just look what I had!” He threw down a full house.

“Of course he wasn’t going to argue,” mumbled Methuen. “He was ahead, and didn’t want to risk his advantage.”

“You mean to say this hyeah bear’s actually beat me? Why, damn it all— oh. oh, looks like he is after all. What a disgrace to the house of Flynn! Don’t you go tell nobody, Doc. I’d never live it down. Ain’t nobody going to know. Ain’t—what’s that

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