He had met the unfortunate young man in one of the newer mining towns along his exciting route.
"He was kind of nursin' a feller that had the consumption," ran the gossip of Mr.Webster, "some one he'd fell in with out in them parts, that had gone there to git cured.

But, High Mighty! the way them two carried on at all hours wasn't goin' to cure no one of nothin'! Specially gamblin', which was done right in public, you might say, though the sharpers never skinned me none, I'll say that! But these two was at it every night, and finally they done just like I told the young fools they'd do--they lost all they had.

They come into the Commercial House one night where I was settin' lookin' over a time-table, both seemin' down in the mouth.

And all to once this sick young man--Mr.
Hoover, his name was--bust out cryin'-- him bein' weak or mebbe in liquor or somethin'.
"'Every cent lost!' he says, the tears runnin' down those yellow, sunk cheeks of his.

But Bernal seems to git chipper again when he sees how Mr.Hoover is takin' it, so he says, 'Haven't you got a cent left, Hoover?
Haven't you got anythin' at all left?
Just think,' he says, 'what I stood to win on that last turn, if it'd come my way--at four to one,' he says, or somethin' like that; them gamblin' terms is too much for me.