CHAPTER IX.

CONFIDENCE GAMES.

The devices of confidence operators for fleecing their victims are more numerous and ingenious than the minds of unsophisticated, honest men can readily conceive. These gentry know neither honor, pity nor remorse. Among their ranks, however, may be found men of brilliant intellect and high education, who, had they devoted to some honest pursuit the time and thought which they have expended upon the conception and execution of schemes of fraud, might have acquired a comfortable competence and occupied an enviable position in the professional or commercial world. Their moral nature, however, has become so warped, that fraud has become instinctive with them and the very name of virtue a by-word and a mockery.

At the same time, it is but right to say that their success, in the vast majority of cases, would be impossible were it not for the fact that they appeal not only to the cupidity of their dupes, but also to a latent element of dishonesty which requires only temptation and opportunity to call it into active exercise. The reader who will carefully scan the pages which follow cannot fail to perceive that the “suckers”—as the confidence men denominate their victims—are, at heart, no more honest than are the sharpers themselves. The trap is spread for them and baited with the prospect of winning “something” for “nothing,” and of deriving advantage through a resort to deception and trickery. If the dupe did not believe that he is about to defraud some one else, he would never become a victim of scoundrels more astute, but little more dishonest than himself. The man who, when a scheme of fraud is proposed to him, indignantly repudiates the implied suspicion that he is willing to sacrifice his honor and integrity for money is not likely to become the dupe of scoundrels who resort to such practices as are explained in this chapter. It has always seemed to me that there is a great waste of sympathy upon men thus victimized. While too much cannot be said in condemnation of men who make a living through systematic fraud, what is to be said of those who are eager to avail themselves of dishonest devices which they themselves have not been sufficiently cunning to invent, but which commend themselves at once to their avarice and lax morality?

THREE CARD MONTE.

This is an ancient device of sharpers, with the _modus operandi_ of which a majority of persons have some acquaintance. It is commonly resorted to by all gamblers and confidence men, who find their most successful field of operation upon railway trains; although fairs, circus grounds, and even camp meetings afford them opportunities of plying their vocation. The game is played with three cards, which are held by the operator, who is known in gamblers’ slang as the “spieler,” in his right hand, between the thumb and first two fingers, the backs towards the palm, and the cards themselves slightly bending inward. To work the trick successfully, some sleight of hand is necessary, to acquire which considerable practice is necessary. The cards are thrown by the “spieler” upon some flat surface, faces downward. Before throwing them, he shows the bystanders the cards which he holds in his hand, and after they have been thrown he invites bets as to the location of some particular card.

To illustrate: he may hold in his hand two aces and a queen; these he shows; he then places them in his right hand, in the position above described, and throws them upon the flat surface, faces downward; he then asks some one to bet which is the queen. The queen may have been the middle of the three cards as they were held in his hand, but it by no means follows that it will be the middle of the three cards as they lie upon the table.

To work the game successfully, at least one and generally two confederates are necessary. It has already been said that the favorite place of operation is the railroad train, and perhaps the reader will gain the best idea of how the trick is done by describing the manner in which these sharpers secure and fleece their victims under these circumstances. The “spieler” is usually attired after the manner of a well-to-do country farmer or stock-raiser. On his head he wears a battered slouch hat, his neck is ornamented with a loosely tied red cotton handkerchief; and his worn trousers are stuffed carelessly into the legs of his cow skin boots. His confederates, who are technically called “cappers,” are dressed after the manner of respectable business men of easy circumstances. It should be remarked, however, that when the precious trio board the train the “spieler” presents a far more fashionable appearance than when dressed for business. He usually carries with him a false shirt bosom, an old overcoat and the slouch hat mentioned above. After he has entered the cars he takes his seat in the rear end of the coach, and the two “cappers” pass through the car looking for some one who promises to be an easy prey, and who is commonly known to the fraternity as a “mark” or a “sucker.” If none is found upon the first car entered, the gang repairs to the next one, the “spieler” taking up his position in the rear as before. As soon as a “mark” is selected, one of the “cappers” takes his seat beside him and raises his hat. At this signal the “spieler” arranges his cotton handkerchief, puts on his disreputable hat, dons his well worn overcoat, and tucks his trousers in his boot legs. The effecting of this transformation scene is known among gamblers as “ringing up.”

The “spieler” goes forward and takes the seat either just before or directly behind his confederate and intended victim. He engages the former in conversation, representing himself as a heavy stock-raiser from the Southwest. He goes on to explain how he has been swindled or “slicked” out of $500 by a “card sharp.” He adds, however, that they failed to get all that he had, and thereupon displays or “flashes” a large roll of money, and slapping his hand upon his side, remarks in a loud tone, that he has $10,000 more in his belt. At this point the confederate, with the air of a man of kindly disposition and one who is familiar with the wickedness of the world, remarks to him that he perceives that he (the “spieler”) has traveled very little, and advises him to avoid displaying money in the presence of strangers. The “spieler” laughs, and says that “he reckons he is able to look after himself.” He adds that he bought the “paste boards” with which he had been cheated from the man who had swindled him, and that he intends to take them home and get his money back by betting with his friends, mentioning, perhaps, by way of illustration, that he means to “win Bill Jones’s mule, and make him walk home the very next night that he comes to see his sister.” His accomplice thereupon asks to see the cards, and they are promptly produced. The “spieler” begins to exhibit his skill and urges the partner to bet. The latter says that he can distinguish the cards readily enough, but does not wish to win the man’s money. After much urging, the “capper” consents to bet and usually wins two wagers as a matter of course. The “spieler” thereupon remarks that he does not care to bet with him any longer, as he is too lucky, and asks the stranger to make a bet. If the latter shows any hesitation, or if, perchance, he expresses some scruples on moral grounds, the “capper” whispers to him that he has a dead certainty of winning and that he had better bet and win, and “teach the fool a lesson,” after which he can return the amount won if he chooses. The “spieler” next throws the cards, and while he turns his head the confederate raises the card and shows the stranger which it is, slightly bending the corner in order that it may be readily recognized.

The victim is now satisfied that he can bet with certainty, and when the “spieler” again picks up the cards to throw them he stakes his wager. The operator, however, with his little finger dexterously flattens out the corner which his accomplice had bent up and bends up the corner of an entirely different card. When the cards are next thrown, the victim selects the one with the bent corner, and is deeply chagrined to discover that it is not the one which he believed it to be.

Sometimes, instead of bending the corner of one of the cards, resort is had to another and equally effective device. While the three cards are lying faces downward, the confederate, with a pencil, makes a mark upon the corner of the winning card. When the “spieler” again turns his head toward the cards, he picks them up and thrusts them into his pocket with the remark, “oh, you fellows wont bet anyway.” In his pocket he has three other cards, duplicates in all respects of those which he has before shown, and on the corner of one of which is a pencil mark precisely similar to the one made by the “capper,” but it is not on the winning card. As he is about to leave, his confederate urges him to remain, saying, “yes we will bet, come back.” The stranger thinks that he recognizes the pencil mark, stakes his money, selects the marked card, finds it is not the winner, and of course loses.

The principal object in having a second confederate is to keep off disinterested persons who might endeavor to put the proposed victim on his guard.

Formerly, monte men refused to play for anything except cash; now-a- days, they are willing to accept bank checks, and the third man is found extremely serviceable as an innocent purchaser. If the “sucker” raises a row, and threatens to stop payment of the check, it is a common practice to produce a piece of paper, perhaps a blank check, folded, which is torn up in the victim’s presence. The latter, believing that he has seen his check destroyed, takes no further steps in the matter. It sometimes happens, however, that a victim will say nothing, but at the same time secretly intends to stop the payment of the check. To guard against this, the third man appears upon the scene and with a great show of righteous indignation, or possibly representing himself to be an officer of the law, demands that the “spieler” return the check to the victim. Hot words then pass, and the latter says that if there is going to be such an everlasting fuss made about so small a matter he will tear up the check and have done with it. Thereupon, he produces his paper, which he tears up, as already described, throwing the pieces out of the car window. Of course in either case, the check remains safe in the sharpers’ possession. The second confederate, by his apparently magnanimous and disinterested interference in the victim’s behalf, naturally wins his confidence. He thereupon makes it his business to remain with him until the “spieler” and his remaining accomplice shall have had time to present the check for certification at the bank upon which it was drawn.

It is said, and universally believed by the sporting fraternity, whose belief is based upon actual experience, that the conductor of the train upon which a game such as has been described is successfully practiced always expects and receives a percentage of the winnings. If the trick is perpetrated on a sleeping car, the porter is always given a handsome bonus. The author has himself been told by one of the latter sort of gentry that his fees from this source considerably exceeded his pay from the sleeping car company.

Probably, the king of the monte men was a man known in sporting circles as “Canada Bill.” He was recognized as a general “all around confidence operator,” and so distrustful were those who knew him of appearances which he put forth that on the occasion of his funeral, as the coffin was being lowered into the grave, one of his friends offered to bet $1,000 to $500 that “Bill was not in the box.” The offer found no takers, for the reason, as one of his acquaintances said, “that he had known Bill to squeeze through tighter holes than that.” It was reported some years before his death that he had offered one of the Trunk Lines of Railroad a premium of $25,000 per annum to be allowed to practice confidence games upon its trains without molestation; a condition of the offer being that he would not attempt to victimize any class of passengers except preachers.

One of the most successful schemes for perpetrating this fraud is known as the “send,” so-called because in some of its essential features it is closely allied to the game of “bunko.” In both cases the victim is sent after more money, in order that the harvest of the rascally manipulators may be increased. One of the favorite modes of winning the confidence and money of an intended dupe is as follows: The victim having been selected,—usually a farmer of some wealth,—two of the sharpers drive up to his residence in a buggy, ostensibly with a view to purchasing his farm. They are always well dressed and present the appearance of men of large means. To gain the confidence of the unsuspecting agriculturalist is a comparatively easy matter. He shows them over his place, they express their entire satisfaction, and offer him a sum in cash which is not only far beyond his expectations but also considerably in excess of the actual value of the property. To complete a bargain under such circumstances is an easy matter. The trade is made, and the sharpers invite the farmer to accompany them to the nearest town, where they propose to draw from the bank the cash necessary to complete the transaction. On the way to town, they encounter another man, also riding in a buggy, who engages them in conversation. The stranger represents himself to be the agent of a new scheme of gift distribution, and at once enlists the interest of the “capper,” who is riding with the farmer. The party alight from their buggies and the new-comer introduces the old game of “three card monte.” He invites them, at first, to “try their luck for fun,” and by showing them what large sums they might have won had they been playing for actual stakes, he soon induces them to take a venture. In working this scheme, however, playing cards are seldom used, for the reason that the average country farmer always cherishes a suspicion of the paste boards. Accordingly, some other description of cards is employed.

It is usually found to be an easy matter to interest the countryman, who sees the “capper” apparently “playing in great luck.” He is soon induced to risk a small amount, and the operator tells him that he and “his friend” have each won a large sum—perhaps $1,000 or $5,000. The sharper has now resorted to the devices of the “bunko banker,” and informs his victim that it will be necessary for him to show the amount of money which he has won in order to prove that he would have been actually able to pay the stake had he lost. The countryman, thoroughly convinced that he is on the eve of winning a large sum, expresses his willingness to go to town and raise the money. Of course, the “agent” of the gift distribution scheme, obligingly offers to await his return. The farmer goes to town, obtains the money, and comes back, like the moth to the candle.

When he returns, the same trickery is resorted to as in the operation of the game of “bunko,” for a full explanation of which the reader is referred to that heading. Of course he loses all that he can be persuaded to venture, and inasmuch as the only two vehicles on the ground are in the possession of the two sharpers, while the victim is, perforce, compelled to go afoot, it is a very easy matter for the former to place such a distance between themselves and the “sucker,” that by the time the latter has reached some point where he may summon assistance, the precious pair are far advanced upon their road to safety.

BOGUS CHECKS.

The use of fraudulent checks as a means of winning money from the unwary is a device of confidence men which, although venerable in its antiquity, is still practiced to a very considerable extent in all parts of the country. Notwithstanding the fact that it has been repeatedly exposed, there are probably hundreds of men in the United States who derive a comfortable income every year through following it up.

The method of operation may be very briefly described. To perpetrate it successfully sharpers ordinarily act in concert. A favorite field of operation is found in depots and railroad trains, although hotels and even public thoroughfares are not despised. The first thing to be done is to learn the name of the proposed victim, after he has been selected. This selection is usually easily made, the experienced confidence man having little difficulty in choosing a man whose appearance indicates that he is not only in good financial circumstances, but also of a nature which renders him peculiarly liable to be defrauded by this sort of trick. His name is usually learned by accosting him by some name which the sharper knows to be incorrect. Naturally, the stranger corrects him by stating who he is and where he resides. This much learned, reference is had to a bank directory of the United States (a copy of which these men always carry with them), and the name of the banks and bankers and prominent business men at his place of residence, ascertained. Having thus posted himself, the swindler informs the “sucker” that he hails from the same locality and is well acquainted with Mr. So-and-So, naming some prominent citizen of the town or city in which the victim resides. If the game is to be played at a depot, the sharper enters the train with the dupe and takes a seat near him. He has previously been at great pains to make himself as entertaining and confidential as possible. All at once, sharper number two appears upon the scene and presents a bill to his confederate, saying that he has made it out in compliance with his request and upon his promise that it should be paid. The swindler expresses himself as entirely satisfied with the account, but says that he has not sufficient currency to make a full payment. He thereupon produces a check for a considerably larger sum, which he asks his confederate to cash, discharge the debt, and return him the balance in money. This, of course, the second sharper says that he cannot do. Sharper number one now turns to the “sucker,” and asks him if he will be kind enough to loan him the amount of his confederate’s pretended claim, taking the check as security. In seven cases out of ten, the swindlers have so carefully selected their victim and so artfully won his confidence, that the dupe readily consents to make the loan desired. If, however, he has not the full amount of money with him, his new acquaintance is quite ready to accept what he has, with which he makes a payment on “account” to his friend. The “sucker” takes the check and puts it away in his pocket-book as security. The two confederates then walk down the aisle of the car, chatting pleasantly and exchanging words of farewell. When they reach the platform they both jump off the car and the victim sees neither of them again. When he attempts to realize upon his supposed “security,” he finds that the draft is not worth the paper on which it was written.

Among sharpers this trick is commonly known as the “con game,” or “check racket.”

Sometimes an appeal is made to the sympathy of the proposed victim. At the city of Louisville, Kentucky, one of these gentry appealed to a stranger to cash a check for him on the score that he was entirely unacquainted in the city and was carrying home the body of his deceased brother for burial. He led his dupe to the baggage car and showed him a box containing a coffin. It is needless to say that the corpse contained therein was that of a person entirely unknown to him. Producing a draft for $1,700, he so artfully worked upon the sympathy of the man to whom he had appealed, that the latter handed him the sum of $520—all that he had with him—and took the worthless paper as security, the sharper representing that he was journeying to the same point of destination as was the dupe, and that on their arrival there he would experience no difficulty in obtaining currency for the draft. On the same day the same individual victimized another stranger out of $225 by the same device, pointing out the identical corpse which he had shown to his first victim. Of course this particular form of this phase of swindling cannot be perpetrated successfully unless the swindlers are, by chance, favored by finding a coffin on some departing train.

OVER ISSUE.

This is a comparatively modern variation of the old “saw-dust” swindling scheme. It is frequently found to be very easy to work, and the returns are sometimes large. Usually two sharpers act in concert, although sometimes one plays the game alone.

The victim selected is usually a man greedy for gain, rather “tight- fisted,” and one who is supposed not to be over scrupulous. Considerable care is exercised in selecting the person on whom it is to be played. He is approached by one of the confidence men, who informs him that he has on hand a large money-making scheme, the probable profit of which will run up to at least $100,000. The sharper displays plenty of money and soon succeeds in convincing the prospective dupe that he is a man of large wealth. The interest of the victim having been awakened, it not infrequently happens that he invites the confidence operator to be a guest at his house. Should this occur, the invitation is invariably declined, the swindler saying that he is paying some $4 or $5 per day for his board, but that that outlay is entirely immaterial to him, inasmuch as he has an abundance of cash. After several business conversations have taken place between the two, and the cupidity of the victim has been thoroughly aroused, the sharper hands him a bill of some large denomination, with a request that he go and purchase some cigars. When he returns with the change, the operator asks him if the bill was good. Receiving an affirmative reply, he nods his head sagely, and says, “I thought so.” His next move is to take from his pocket a large roll of bills, from which he desires the dupe to select one, which he is to take to the bank in order to get change. On his return, the confidence man, after pledging him to inviolable secrecy, informs him that he will make his fortune in a year. He tells him that he has an uncle in the treasury department at Washington that at the time of the last printing of treasury notes, there was surreptitiously secured an over-issue of $5,000,000; that he (the sharper) is the agent for his uncle for the disposition of $1,000,000 of the sum. He adds that he cannot allow any single purchaser to take more than $10,000 or less than $3,000, but that within these limits he will dispose of these bills, printed from genuine plates and on government fibre paper, at the rate of 50 cents on the $1.00.

The greenhorn thus sees the way clear to a speedy, even if dishonestly acquired fortune. When he has bitten at the bait and expresses himself ready to go on with the transaction, the confidence man takes him to another town, where the money is to be paid over to him. A common device then is to go to some hotel, where the money is counted out in the presence of the sucker and placed in an express envelope, which is securely sealed. The package is addressed to the victim at the town in which he resides, and the pair leave for the express office. Of course, the package which is delivered to the express company is not the one which the dupe saw sealed up. Another one, precisely similar in size and appearance, has been substituted without his knowledge. The dupe pays over his money and the sharper disappears from the scene of action.

When the victim reaches home and obtains his package from the local agent of the company, he finds upon opening it that it is filled with blank paper.

I have never known but one instance in which a man thus duped undertook to make any fuss. Usually, the sharper sends his dupe a letter, calling his attention to the fact that to attempt to stir up any difficulty will be simply to expose his own stupidity and dishonesty. This view of the matter is so eminently logical that the victim submits to his loss without a murmer.

DROPPING THE PIGEON.

This device of confidence operators is sometimes known as the “pocket book game.”

One of the ways in which the trick is played may be thus described. A piece of pasteboard, cut in the form of a Greek cross, is folded over in such a way that the arms shall cross at the centre. A slit is neatly cut in the middle square and a small silver coin, perhaps a three or five cent piece, placed therein. Another coin of the same denomination is placed on the square itself, underneath the folded arms. The whole is then tied up with a piece of blue ribbon. When a “mark” has been selected, one of the two confederates who are to operate the game drops it on the road or on the sidewalk, as the case may be. The second confederate, who has managed to scrape an acquaintance with the proposed victim, comes along, walking in his company. His eye at once rests upon the peculiar looking package, which he stoops and raises from the ground. Opening it, the sharper and the dupe examine it together. The former calls the attention of the latter to the exposed silver coin. Raising his eyes, he sees his confederate approaching and looking at the ground as if for something he had lost. He directs the eyes of the “sucker” toward him and remarks that they will now “have a little fun.” Taking the coin, he hands it to the dupe, telling him to put it in his pocket. As soon as his confederate comes near enough, sharper number one asks him if he has lost anything. The accomplice replies in the affirmative, saying that it was a keepsake from his mother, which he valued highly. He describes the package, and says that it contained a coin of a certain denomination. The first confidence man thereupon produces the package, but tells him there is no coin inside of it. The pretended owner professes great surprise, and offers to bet any sum that a coin of the denomination named is within the bundle. The “sucker,” thinking that he sees an opportunity to make some money without incurring any risk, accepts the wager. The money having been put in the hands of the first confidence man, the confederate opens the package, raises the concealed slip in the pasteboard, and reveals the hidden coin. Of course he is at once declared to have won the bet.

Sometimes, instead of a piece of pasteboard prepared as described, a pocket-book with a secret compartment is employed.

Another form of the “pocket-book game” is to drop a wallet containing a considerable sum in counterfeit money. This is found by the confidence man and the “sucker.” The former, having picked it up, exhibits its contents to the dupe, whose cupidity is at once aroused. His companion offers to allow him to take the pocket-book and advertise for a reward, provided that he (the “sucker”) will give him $25. The greenhorn thinks that this is a very easy way of making money, and having no intention of advertising the finding of the wallet and being chiefly anxious to get rid of the only witness of his intended fraud, readily assents. If he offers to pay the $25 from the bills in the pocket-book, the confidence man refuses to accept them, alleging as a reason that the man who lost the money may possibly have made a memorandum of the numbers of the bills or have some other means of identifying them.

In such cases as these, the victim rarely makes complaint, for the reason that to do so would be to expose his own avarice, greenness, and dishonesty.

THE TOBACCO BOX.

This scheme of fraud is sometimes successfully worked; although to operate it, it is necessary to secure a peculiarly gullible victim. Two confederates act in unison.

After a dupe has been selected, sharper number one approaches him and engages him in conversation. He soon produces a wooden tobacco box, the cover of which swings upon a pivot placed at one end. This he opens and takes out a chew, at the same time offering the box to the “sucker.” He then asks the latter if he does not admire his box, which he says was a present to him from a friend. He then closes the cover and hands it to the dupe for examination. Inside the box, is a slender wire, which, when the box is inverted, falls upon a groove in the top and effectually prevents its being opened. The greenhorn attempts to slide the cover around, but finds it impossible. The sharper laughs, and tells him that there is a little trick about the box by means of which he has won money, drinks and cigars. He then takes it in his hand, secretly unlocks it, and holding it out toward the dupe, presses on the end and tells him to try again to open it. Of course, the box being unlocked, the slide swings easily. The victim believes that the secret of opening lies in pressing on the end, and is confirmed in this belief by making repeated trials. At this juncture, upon receiving a preconcerted signal, the confederate approaches and asks for a chew of tobacco. The first confidence man hands the box to his partner, who professes to be unable to open it. “Why,” exclaims sharper number one, “this gentleman can open it easily enough.” The confederate offers to bet that he cannot. The money is produced and the stakes placed in the dupe’s hands. The latter is given the box, and, it being unlocked, opens it without difficulty. The money is then handed to the owner, and the second sharper remarks that if the gentleman can open it he can. The box is then locked by its owner, before he hands it over to his confederate. The latter makes an attempt to swing the lid, and pretending that he is unable to turn it (although he well knows the secret of its mechanism), offers to bet $100, or any sum which it is thought that the dupe may be induced to wager, that the stranger cannot open it either. The “sucker,” feeling confident that he has “a sure thing,” accepts the bet, stakes his money, placing it in the hands of sharper number one, and is given the box, which has been securely locked. When he attempts to turn the cover by pressing on the end as before, he finds it absolutely impossible to move it. Of course, the second confidence man claims the stakes, which are promptly paid him by his confederate.

“KNIFE.”

This device for swindling is similar, as regards the method of its operation, to the game of the “tobacco box.”

The fraud is perpetrated in substantially the same way, and the trick consists of the use of a secret mechanism in each which so effectually prevents the opening of either of them that the dupe is put at the mercy of the sharpers.

One of the modes of fleecing a “sucker” by this means (and the same method is sometimes employed with the “tobacco box”) is to instruct him in the mode of opening the device in question under any and all circumstances. After he has thoroughly learned the whole secret of the contrivance, a confederate opportunely happens along, and after some conversation, in the course of which the particular device is produced and discussed, offers to bet that he can open it, at the first trial. The greenhorn accepts the wager and puts up his money. The second sharper, who has been posing as an entirely unsophisticated individual, takes the contrivance in his hands and, knowing the secret through which it may be worked, opens it without any difficulty, whereupon he claims and receives the stakes.

“PADLOCK” AND “SAFE.”

In some of its features these devices resemble the “tobacco box” and “knife.” The mode of working the cheat, however is somewhat different. Both the “padlock” and “safe” open with a lock, the operation of which is explained to the proposed dupe. After the latter believes that he thoroughly understands the entire scheme, and is willing to lend himself to the perpetration of a fraud upon someone else, a confederate conveniently appears. A bet is soon arranged between the sharper and the “sucker,” and the money placed in the hands of the man who has produced the device and explained its construction to the victim. The greenhorn, after putting up his money, proceeds to demonstrate how easily he can open the lock. The fraud consists in the substitution (or ringing in, as gamblers term it), to a different lock or safe, which is handed to the dupe instead of the one first shown him, and which he finds himself utterly unable to open for the exceedingly satisfactory reason that although the keyhole is there, the contrivance contains no lock whatever. Having failed to perform what he undertook to do, he is promptly declared to have lost his wager, and the stakes are handed over to the confidence man who has laid the wager against him.

I was once engaged in fleecing the unwary by means of one of these padlocks at Little Rock, Arkansas. Another gambler was using the same trick at the same place. He had in tow, as an intended victim, a “manufactured sucker,” a man I had previously instructed in the trick, and to whom I had given a padlock precisely similar to the one which was being used by the other confidence man. At the proper moment, the supposed “sucker” substituted the latter for the one handed him by the other sharper. As a matter of course, when he undertook to unlock the one which I had given him, he was able to do so without any difficulty. My rival in business was undoubtedly immensely surprised, but paid the greenhorn the amount of his winnings without question. I do not pretend to say that I was actuated on this occasion by any philanthropic motives. My act was influenced only by a desire to get the better of a man who prided himself on being so astute at working confidence games that no one could impose upon him.

“QUARTER UNDER FOOT.”

This swindling trick can rarely be played except for small sums. It is usually practiced at saloons, and requires the co-operation of a confederate. One of them first enters the resort, and, after patronizing the bar, stands around after the manner of ordinary customers. At the proper moment, the accomplice enters, feigning drunkenness. He accosts his confederate—the one who first entered the drinking place—and offers to throw dice with him to see which of the two shall pay for the liquid refreshments for all present. Some conversation ensues, in the course of which the second sharper, after drawing some money from his pocket, contrives to drop a quarter on the floor. Assuming an air of drunken braggadocio, he offers to bet that no one in the room can take the quarter from under his foot, which he places directly upon the coin. Sharper number one begins to “chaff” him, and the apparently intoxicated individual, staggering to and fro, moves his foot off of the coin. As he momentarily turns his head, the confederate lifts the money from the floor and places it in his own pocket. When his accomplice again turns around, he tells him that he is exceedingly drunk, but that he will bet them there is no quarter under his foot at all. The “sucker” meanwhile stands by, an interested spectator, and an appeal to his greed for money usually induces him to make a bet with the man whom he believes to be drunk, on an issue which he considers to be a certainty in his favor. The money having been placed, the second sharper at once drops the appearance of intoxication, and drawing off his boot shows a quarter between his stocking and the inner sole. The terms of the wager having been that there was no coin “under his foot,” he has technically won, and the stakes—which are always held by the confederate—are handed over to him and the pair of scoundrels leave the premises at the earliest convenient moment.

THE “SHOT GUN.”

This is a trick which can be played only upon individuals who are pretty nearly destitute of all sense. All that is necessary for its accomplishment, after such a “mark” has been found, is the co-operation of two confederates and a single barrel shot-gun. Inside the latter are placed two separate charges of shot, so arranged that one may be drawn from the gun without disturbing the load underneath. One of the two confidence men contrives to form the acquaintance of the proposed dupe, and after pointing out to him his confederate suggests that they withdraw the charge from the weapon and then offer to bet the individual whom he has pointed out that he (the confederate) cannot hit the victim’s hat at the first fire. The countryman usually falls in with the suggestion and the wager is soon arranged, the upper charge having been withdrawn by the confidence man in the presence of his dupe. The latter hangs up his hat and the confederate takes the gun. Of course, the under charge still remaining in the barrel, the hat is riddled with shot at the first fire and the “sucker” discovers that he has been gulled when it is too late for him to recover his money.

This is not always a safe game to attempt. I myself once came near being lynched by a crowd who were excited by the vociferous remonstrances of my dupe. I compromised the affair by returning him his money and buying him a new hat, after which I was only too happy to depart from the locality with a whole skin.

“GIVE-AWAY.”

This is a confidence game, the origin of the name of which may be readily understood by any one who will take the trouble to read the following explanation of the way in which the trick is operated. It is always worked by a man driving a horse and buggy, who ordinarily selects a street corner, where two crowded thoroughfares cross, and who depends for success upon the co-operation of “cappers,” or confederates. The operator represents himself as the agent of some fictitious jewelry manufacturing concern—perhaps the “Milton” Gold Co. He informs his auditors that it is his intention to present each and all of them with a gift, his object being to introduce to public notice the wares of the company whose agent he is. He requests those who wish to receive presents to take their stand, in line, near the buggy, and not leave the spot until the gifts shall have been distributed. His first move is to scatter a handful of small coin—nickles or dimes—among the crowd, which are, of course, eagerly gathered up and the attention of the spectators is riveted upon a man who appears to be crazy. He then asks if there is any one in the crowd who will give him ninety cents for a dollar. Of course, a confederate promptly offers him that sum, and he thereupon at once proposes to sell it to any one who will pay him seventy-five cents; the seventy-five cents he offers to sell for a half a dollar; the fifty cents for a quarter, and so on. He next produces a quantity of collar- buttons, which he says are made of “Milton” gold, and worth a dollar each, but which he is willing to dispose of at twenty-five cents apiece, in order to introduce his wares. He also wishes customers to remain in line and hold up their hands with the collar-button exposed, in order that they may receive the twenty-five cents which he intends to give each and all of them. When he has a line of sufficient length before him, he hands to each one, in rotation, as he exhibits his purchase, a silver quarter, to which he not infrequently adds a dime, with the request that they will spend the latter sum in drinking his health.

He next produces jewelry to which he attaches a higher value, such as chains, rings or lockets. His next move is to offer for sale watches at, say, $15, $20, or $25 each. By this time he has aroused the enthusiasm of the crowd to a high pitch. They are wondering what is going to be his next move, and it is by no means difficult to find buyers for all the watches which the confidence man dares to offer. Each purchaser is informed that he will receive a liberal rebate, and the money pours in upon the man in the buggy in a continuous stream. As soon as he has obtained all that he thinks possible to be gathered in from the crowd before him, he puts the money in his pocket, whips up his horse, and drives away, leaving the bewildered spectators to mourn the credulity which induced them to part with their ready cash.

Sometimes the playing of this game is attended with more or less personal risk, and I have myself known operators of this description narrowly to escape lynching.

“FIVE CARDS.”

This is a device of confidence men, which is often successfully worked, but never for large stakes. Two confederates are necessary to its successful operation. Five business cards, the character of which is immaterial, are taken by one of the sharpers, who exhibits them to his intended victim. The swindler informs his dupe that it is his intention to “beat” a man whom he points out for the drinks or cigars. The individual designated is, of course, a confederate of the sharper. The latter shows the “sucker” the five cards—which always bear different inscriptions—and making a mark with a pencil on one of them, tells him that the trick consists in inducing the supposed greenhorn to bet with the “sucker” that the latter cannot select a certain card, naming the marked one, from the five cards when shuffled and exposed, backs upward. The dupe assents to the proposal, and the “capper,” after making this trifling bet, draws the wrong card, whereupon he liquidates the bills for refreshments for the crowd. The confederate then offers to wager a sum of money that the “sucker” cannot again pick out the card in question. The dupe, not perceiving the snare set for him, accepts the proffered wager, and the cards are again shuffled. This time, however, his pretended friend reverses the ends of the cards, exposing a mark precisely similar to the one which the victim has seen before, but placed upon another card. The poor fool, influenced by a desire to obtain an unfair advantage over a man whom he regards as an easy prey, eagerly points out the card which bears the private mark similar to that shown him before. Of course he loses, and the stakes are handed over to the confederate of the original swindler.

I have said that this trick is usually played only for small stakes, but I have myself won $125 thereby from a single victim at one venture.

“SHELL GAME.”

In some of its salient features this game resembles “three card monte,” which has been already described. It is essentially a confidence game, and although very old and already frequently exposed, scores of confidence men annually reap a rich harvest from the credulity and cupidity of dupes.

The only implements necessary are three hollow shells and a small rubber ball, about the size of a buckshot. Halves of English walnut shells are the ones commonly employed, although any hollow hemispheres will answer; sometimes operators use halves of potatoes scooped out. The simplicity of the apparatus enables the “shell” man to carry his outfit with him in his vest pocket wherever he may go, and he is accordingly able to ply his vocation at any spot where he may be able to gather a crowd.

A “capper” is an indispensable accessory. As soon as the operator has taken up his position and is ready to commence operations, the confederate mingles with the crowd. The man with the shells places them upon some flat surface and produces the ball, which he places first under one and then another of the three hemispheres. He does this rapidly, and by alternating the position of the ball is able to confuse the spectators as to its precise location. The “capper,” after watching him for a few moments, offers to bet that he can tell under which shell the ball lies. Of course the wager is accepted, and frequently several bets are made, the confederate winning and losing indifferently.

The confidence men are well aware that after they shall have victimized a “sucker,” the fraudulent nature of their maneuvers will be so apparent that it will be imperatively necessary for them to “move on;” therefore, the first object which they have in view is to ascertain the individual in the crowd, who is sufficiently gullible to serve as a dupe, who may have the largest amount of money in his pocket. To acquire this knowledge, the operator, after rolling the ball, places one of the shells over it in such a way that the edge of the latter shall be slightly raised, thus affording a plain view of the ball underneath. He then offers to bet any man in the crowd $100 that he cannot tell under which of the three cups the ball lies. The spectators, each and all, being able to see precisely where it is, those who have money reach for their pockets, believing that they will be able to secure an unfair advantage and bet with certainty. Of course, the “shell” man and the “capper” are now thoroughly informed as to which of the crowd have money, which they are willing to wager.

The confederate next approaches the individual whose location is thus rendered easy and begins to converse with him, at the same time feigning to be much excited. It is not, however, the intention of either of the two confederates that any such bet shall be made. Accordingly, the “capper” calls out to his accomplice that he does not wish to win his money unfairly, and that one of the shells is propped upon the ball. Confidence man number one looks down, as though he were glad to have his attention called to the fact, and taking the ball between his fingers begins rolling it again. After he has placed it under one of the shells, he renews his proposition to bet. At this point he makes some excuse for turning away his head. The “capper” thereupon raises the shell under which the ball is lying, and shows the latter to the dupe. As the operator again turns around and faces the crowd, his confederate offers to bet five or ten dollars that he can designate the location of the ball. “No,” says the accomplice, “I will not accept so small a bet. I want to wager fifty or one hundred dollars.” Sometimes even a larger sum is named, the amount depending upon the estimated size of the victim’s pocket book and the extent of his credulity. The “capper,” who appears to be in a state of great excitement, urges the dupe to accept the offer, and bet on the shell under which he has shown him the ball. At the same time, he hands him five or ten dollars, with which to complete the amount of his wager. The “sucker” usually assents, and the money is placed in the hands of the operator. The dupe then raises the shell under which he has seen the ball, when lo, it is not there. The reason is simple. The “capper,” when he raised the shell in question, removed the ball, which, owing to its small size and to its being hollow and of soft rubber, he is able easily to conceal between his fingers. Of course, the victim loses the amount of his stake.

The “capper” then professes great indignation at his stupidity, and tells him that he raised the wrong shell. To prove the truth of his words, he raises the one next to it, and exposes a ball, which he (the confederate) at the same moment dropped from between his fingers. It not infrequently happens, that the victim is satisfied that he himself made a mistake, and can be induced to make another venture. I have myself known the same individual to be so utterly devoid of sense as to lose money through this device four or five times in succession.

Another method of inducing “suckers” to wager their money at this game is known among confidence men as the “blow-off.” In this case, the confederate lifts the shell and removes the ball, at the moment when the operator averts his eyes. The confederate then offers to bet that the ball is not under any of the shells, and the greenhorn is induced to lay a wager by means of the same tactics which have been already described. Of course, the “shell” man shows a ball underneath one of the hemispheres and the dupe is declared to have lost. The ball which is shown, however, is one which either he himself or his confederate placed there at the moment of raising the cup.

One of the best known “shell men” in the country for many years, was “Jim” Miner, better known as “Umbrella Jim,” who was fond of introducing his games by singing the following doggerel:

“A little fun, just now and then Is relished by the best of men. If you have nerve, you may have plenty; Five, draws you ten, and ten, draws twenty. Attention giv’n, I’ll show to you, How umbrella hides the peek-a-boo. Select your shell, the one you choose; If right, you win, if not, you lose; The game itself is lots of fun, Jim’s chances, though, are two to one; And I tell you your chance is slim To win a prize from ‘Umbrella Jim.’”

“DOLLAR STORE” OR “DROP CASE.”

This is an old game, but none the less successful because of its antiquity. Wherever cupidity and ignorance are found together, there this ancient device takes root and flourishes.

The outfit required is a wooden case, holding one hundred or more envelopes. Most of them contain blank cards, though inside a few are placed tickets bearing numbers. Near this case stands a show case containing a glittering array of prizes, including watches, chains, jewelry, silverware and money. The verdant speculator who is allured by this dazzling display pays a dollar for an opportunity of acquiring title to a portion of it.

Having paid his money, he is permitted to draw an envelope from the case, which he proceeds to examine. If it contains a blank card, of course he has lost. If it contains a card bearing a number, the proprietor of the case compares the number with the list and informs the purchaser whether or not he has drawn a prize. As a matter of course, there are a few comparatively valueless prizes, the winning of which is left to mere chance, although a majority of the numbered tickets do not call for any prize whatever.

The most money making feature of the scheme is worked by the aid of a “capper,” or confederate. One of these individuals saunters up to the case at a moment when he sees there a person whom he considers likely to prove a “soft mark.” The confederate and the intended victim look over the envelopes together listlessly, and the proprietor invites them each to draw one “just for fun.” The “capper” opens his envelope, and finding that he has drawn a blank remarks, “that is just my luck; I never drew a prize yet, and don’t believe that you have one in your whole outfit.” The proprietor professes much righteous indignation that his integrity should be thus assailed, and, to prove his good faith, he says: “I’ll tell you what I’ll do; I’ll make a special prize of one thousand dollars out of one of those numbers which you two gentlemen have just drawn and give you a chance to win it for five hundred dollars.” The “capper” laughs, and hands him the card which he has drawn, which is usually numbered “eleven.” The operator replaces it in the envelope and lets down the back of the show-case, in order to enter a special prize on his list. As he does so, he slips the envelope containing the ticket marked “eleven” into a little secret pocket, from which at the same time he draws another envelope holding a ticket marked “forty-four.” He then places this envelope, together with the one held by the “sucker,” in the box, in such a way that the edge of one of them rises a little above the rest. Both the “capper” and the greenhorn perceive this circumstance and the latter supposes it to have been the result of accident. The “capper” then draws the envelope whose corner is raised and the dupe takes the one next to it. The proprietor asks his confederate to advance his money. The latter replies that he has not more than fifteen or twenty dollars with him. “Well,” answers the operator, “put up that amount, and if you have drawn number eleven, I will pay you an amount equal to your stake.” The “capper” hands over his money, and on looking in his envelope finds that he has drawn a blank. Simulating deep chagrin, he curses his “luck.” The proprietor at this moment conveniently turns his head, and his confederate, snatching the envelope from the hand of the dupe, hastily raises the flap, pulls out a small portion of the ticket within, thus showing the tops of figure forty-four, which leads the greenhorn to believe that he has drawn the lucky eleven. This, in gamblers’ parlance, is called “giving a flash.” In ninety-nine cases out of every hundred, the cupidity of the “sucker” is aroused, and in the firm confidence that he has a “sure thing,” he pays over all the money which he has, in the hope of winning a like amount. Until the money has been paid, he is not permitted to examine his ticket. When, having paid his cash, with trembling hands he opens the envelope, he discovers that instead of the magic “eleven” he has drawn “forty-four,” having been misled by the resemblance between the upper ends of the figures “four” and “one,” shown him in the momentary glance which the “capper” gave him of the card. Of course, he is utterly without redress, and has to bear his loss with such degree of equanimity as he may be able to command.

Strange as it may appear, it is a fact that persons are found who are fools enough to be caught by this trick three times in succession. It is from the majority of such “suckers” as these that the proprietors reap a golden harvest. A man at Council Bluffs stood at the case and bought ticket after ticket until he had dropped six thousand dollars into the coffers of the scoundrels who were manipulating the device.

This game is most successfully worked by the aid of “ropers,”—by which term is meant confederates who allure, or “steer,” victims into the booth or room in which the trick is being operated. The devices resorted to by these “steerers” are numerous and ingenious. Sometimes the dupe is induced to visit the place by means of an offer to sell him a piece of cloth worth two dollars per yard for forty cents; sometimes he is shown a sample of choice tea, which he is told he can purchase at a ridiculously low price. When the greenhorn has been brought in front of the ticket case with the adjacent array of prizes, it is usually an easy matter to induce him to speculate. The “ropers” are paid a commission of forty-five per cent. on all winnings which are made from the men whom they bring in, and I have myself received commissions for this sort of work amounting to more than three hundred dollars in a single day.

MINOR CONFIDENCE GAMES.

Among the petty schemes to which professional sharpers have resort is one known as “betting on weight.” A single illustration, drawn from my own experience, may serve to show to the unsuspecting reader precisely the way in which this petty scheme is carried out.

The incident which I am about to relate happened at Hot Springs, Arkansas, where I had been playing poker—of course on the principles of the “skin” gamblers—in connection with a partner. We had succeeded in fleecing a “sucker” out of a considerable sum of money. He was moody over the loss of his cash, and we believed that he was disposed to be slightly suspicious. In order to disabuse his mind of any such idea, my partner accompanied him down the street, condoling with him as to his losses. My accomplice suggested to him that he might possibly “get even” with me by venturing a wager on some chance subject. “That man, Quinn,” he said, “is ready to bet on anything; he would even bet on spitting at a mark or the weight of a stone,” pointing to a rock which lay in the street. As though struck by a sudden inspiration, he suggested, “Suppose we weigh that rock and bet on a certainty. That is the only chance which we will ever have to get our money back.” The greenhorn assented, and the weight of the stone was carefully and accurately ascertained. The next morning, having been fully posted by my confederate, I walked down the street and met my partner and the dupe in company. After cordially greeting them, I asked if either of them wished to bet upon any chance whatever. After some little badinage, the “sucker” offered to bet as to the weight of the stone which he and my partner had caused to be carefully weighed the day previous. Of course I assented and the bet was made. Very much to our surprise the prospective victim had only $87 in his pocket, but this he cheerfully staked. The stone was weighed and my guess proved to be the exact weight of the rock. The reason was, that between the moment when my partner suggested the scheme to the dupe and the time the stone was weighed, we had caused to be chipped off a section, whose weight we knew exactly. The greenhorn, on this occasion, “kicked” violently and insisted upon having the stone reweighed. We found it convenient to have recourse to the scales of a Junk dealer who had been previously “fixed” for the occasion and who had officiated as “weigher” the night before. “Oh,” said the descendent of Abraham, “I din’d know vat you shentlemen’s means, I had as many as doo scales; von vat I buy mit and de odder as I sells py. I vays dit mid by separate times on each scale. Vat were you shentlemen’s want nohow?” This argument proved conclusive and the “sucker” submitted to the loss of his $87 without further protest.

THE GRANDMOTHER TRICK.

This is a very simple trick to play, after the operator has acquired the necessary degree of manual dexterity. Its success depends primarily upon sleight of hand, and secondarily upon the assistance of a confederate. In fact, the trick itself is so simple that gamblers who enjoy any standing in the “profession” rarely resort to it until they find themselves in a position where money is absolutely indispensable. Under such circumstances, blacklegs,—even those of a better class—never hesitate to resort to the grossest and most contemptible species of fraud. When one of these gentry sees that he has but one “sawbuck” remaining in his pocket, there is no device too contemptible for him to employ with a view of replenishing his pocket book.

The method of playing this trick is as follows: Two aces are selected and shown to the prospective victim. They are then placed together, the pack cut, and the two cards selected are placed upon the top of one of the piles. At this moment the confidence man—apparently by chance—turns his head. It is easy to invent a pretext. A coughing fit, a sneeze, a slight noise made by a confederate—any one of these, or a score of other excuses will afford the “capper,” (whose assistance is indispensable) an opportunity to perform his part of the scheme which will be explained below. Before the manipulator averts his eyes he says that “if they go in together they must come out together,” which is a self-evident proposition. At the moment when he turns his head the confederate raises one of the aces, and removing a number of cards from the other, turning, places them upon the remaining ace, puts the ace which he has withdrawn in the place of those which he has taken from the second pile. The “sucker” is now thoroughly satisfied that the two aces shown him cannot possibly “come in” to the pack “together.” The operator again turns around and picks up the two piles, leaving the one containing the removed ace upon the top. This latter card he conceals in his hand and commences to draw from the bottom of the pack, turning each card drawn face upward. Of course he knows the card lying directly next to the ace, which is in the middle of the pack. As soon as he sees this he is aware that the next card exposed will be that particular ace. He then repeats the remark, “if they go in together they must come out together,” and offers to bet that the card following this ace, which he shows, is its companion. Naturally, the greenhorn is firmly persuaded that this is impossible, and bets are made as to the happening of this contingency. Usually, the “capper” is exceedingly anxious to bet some trifling wager, perhaps the drinks or cigars. The sharper permits him to win and the same process is again repeated. This time the victim is induced to bet, the stakes being made considerably larger. When the bottom of the pack from which the confidence man has dealt is exposed, it is seen that the lower card is the other ace, the sharper having adroitly passed it from his hand to the bottom of the pack.

While this game is not well adapted to winning large sums, it is a very common thing for men operating it to take $10 or $20 from a dupe, and I have even known as much as $50 to be won through its manipulation.

A brace of blacklegs in San Francisco once swindled an innocent player out of what was to him a considerable sum of money through this means. The victim caused the arrest of the pair, and it is said that when they were brought before the magistrate for trial the court asked them to explain the manner in which the trick had been done, the sharpers having already pleaded guilty. One of them performed the trick for the edification of the court, after which the judge, turning to one of the swindlers, said: “Well, sir, I will give you one year;” and then, turning to the other, added: “I will give you six months. You may go in together, but I’ll show you that you won’t come out together.”

THE “SOAP GAME.”

This is a trick of confidence operators which often proves exceedingly successful in extracting money from the pockets of men who consider themselves fairly well versed in the knowledge of the world. The outfit is very simple, and by no means expensive. A number of small cakes of soap of no particular value are procured, or sometimes soap is bought in bars, which are cut into pieces of the desired size. A quantity of cheap pasteboard boxes, each having a drawer somewhat larger than is the piece of soap which it is to contain, are procured and soap placed inside of them. In order to work the game, a room—usually one opening off the street—is rented. The “soap man” takes his position on a raised platform, and when a crowd has gathered to see what is going on he takes out a cake of cleansing soap, _i.e._, a preparation for removing grease and similar substances from cloth. He proceeds to expatiate upon its merits, illustrating his remarks by experimental demonstration. If he is a good talker, and intersperses his remarks with a few interesting anecdotes, he succeeds in attracting and keeping the interest of his audience. When he has proceeded far enough in his remarks he informs his listeners that the manufacturers of this wonderful preparation are seeking to introduce it in a somewhat novel way; that they propose to place a given amount of currency in a certain number of boxes together with a cake of soap in each. These boxes, he says, will be thoroughly mixed and every purchaser will be allowed to select any three boxes (the price of which will be $1.00) from the entire number offered. To prove his sincerity and truthfulness he draws from his pocket several bills, of denominations ranging from $1.00 to $20.00, and announces that he will place them inside the boxes in the presence of the crowd. He takes the bills in his hand, one at a time, folds them up carefully, and apparently inserts them in the boxes. Each box, after the bank note has been placed in it, is dropped into a large leather sachel. When he has disposed of all the bills, he takes the sachel in both hands and shakes it, with a view to thoroughly mixing the boxes. He then opens it and offers to allow anyone present to select three boxes on the payment of one dollar. It is the easiest thing in the world to sell the soap, but no legitimate purchaser ever succeeds in obtaining more than a single dollar bill. The reason is that the vendor adroitly “palms” off the bills of larger denominations, substituting therefor dollar bills which he has previously rolled up and which he holds in his hand at the time that he apparently inserts the large bills into the boxes in the presence of the spectators. In other words, when the boxes have been dropped into the sachel and mixed none of them contain a note of a larger denomination than one dollar, the confidence man having still in his possession all of the large bills. When it is remembered that not more than one box in ten contains any money whatever, the chances of drawing a prize are readily seen to be exceedingly small. The buyers, however, believe that they have seen the large bills placed in the boxes before their eyes, and part with their money very readily. It may be easily seen that “cappers” are almost indispensable in this as in so many other confidence games. It is not necessary that any signal should pass between the confederates. The “capper” usually places his three boxes in his pocket as soon as he has purchased them. Some one in the crowd is always certain to ask him to open them. At first he objects, but finally yields to persuasion. He takes out three boxes from his pocket and one of them is always found to contain a large bill. The explanation of his apparent good luck is very simple. When he puts the three boxes in his pocket he had there another one, precisely similar in size and appearance, containing the bank note which he exhibits to the crowd. When he drew three boxes from his pocket, he took the one which he previously placed there together with two of those which he had taken from the bag.

THE FOOT RACE.

This is a confidence game which is one of the most direct outrages ever perpetrated upon an unsuspecting dupe. And yet, like most similar tricks, it can be successfully worked only when the proposed victim is ready to sacrifice his own integrity to his avarice.

Two foot racers act in concert with a third man, who personates the “backer” of one of them. The first racer gains the confidence of the man to be swindled, who must necessarily possess some means. He convinces him by actual ocular demonstration that he is a speedy runner, and one on whom it is safe to lay a wager. This done, confidence man number two makes his appearance, attired very much after the fashion of a tramp. He says that he is anxious to find some one with whom to run a race for money. Naturally, his appearance not being such as to inspire any faith in his ability as a pedestrian, a match is soon arranged with the fleet- footed runner. The newcomer puts up all the money which he has—perhaps some $30 or $40—together with his watch, and the race is run. The tramp is beaten “out of sight.” The latter, apparently considerably chagrined, says that he is glad that his “uncle” (or some other friend, whom he named), was not there, inasmuch as he would have wagered $20,000 upon him. He adds that the mysterious “uncle,” or friend, has a “barrel of money,” and would have been willing to have staked it all upon his success.

The winner of the race thereupon proposes that he bring his “uncle” there, and that another race be arranged, and it will be an easy thing to “beat” his friend out of a large sum of money, which may be divided between the pair. Of course, as the reader has probably already understood, the two racers are confederates. The proposed victim—the man who has been backing the first racer—falls in with the suggestion and urges the mysterious tramp to induce his friend to come. The second sharper, however, professes great reluctance to defraud his “uncle,” and says that he will go to the latter’s farm and go to work. His confederate and the dupe accompany him to the train, the former constantly urging him to consent to the proposed scheme. At the last moment, the simulated virtue of sharper number two vanishes, and he says that he will induce his “uncle” to come down and lay a wager upon his success, provided that his connection with the scheme shall be kept forever a secret.

In due time the tramp returns, accompanied by an individual to personate the moneyed man who is to put up the necessary stakes. Arrangements are made for the race, the bets are made, and at the termination of the contest it is discovered, much to the surprise of the victim who has been backing the winner of the first race that the tramp, who was on that occasion so easily defeated, has won without difficulty. The stakes are paid over to the winners, and the party of scoundrels at once take their departure.

Sometimes the swindlers find it necessary to place a long distance between themselves and their victims. The latter are tolerably certain to discover, without much reflection, the manner in which they have been defrauded, and they are apt to follow up the gang in company with officers of the law. I have known cases where confidence men who have successfully worked this scheme, have been compelled to disgorge the lion’s share of their ill-gotten gains.

“FLIM-FLAM.”

This is another of those bare-faced schemes of fraud which are daily perpetrated upon an unsuspecting public. The method of operation is extremely simple, and it may be that some of the readers of this volume may be able to discover, from the description here given, the manner in which a gross imposition has been practised upon them. The “flim-flam” operator appeals, not to the avarice but to the good nature of his victim.

The favorite localities for playing the trick are fairs, circuses and railroad trains, and—as in the case of a large number of confidence games—large sums are sometimes paid for the “privilege.” The innocent looking news agent or peanut boy is often an adept at practicing this sort of fraud. The accommodating individual whom you see outside of a circus tent, carrying a small valise, from which he produces tickets which he offers for sale is apt to be a “flim-flam” sharper, who pays a percentage of his gains to the proprietors in consideration of being allowed to carry on his practices with immunity.

The game is always worked in substantially the same way. To begin with, the train boy, after selecting his victim, (otherwise termed “mark,”) he approaches him with an offer to sell something—perhaps a book, perhaps candy, possibly fruit. It is of comparatively little consequence whether he buys or not. The next move of the sharper is to ask the proposed dupe to give him a bill of large denomination for several small ones, which he produces. Sometimes he introduces a quantity of small change. After counting the money into the stranger’s hands, the swindler begs him to count it back to him, in order that he may see that it is right. This done, the scoundrel “palms” one of the bills or pieces of money, _i.e._, secretes it in the palm of his hand, and turns over the cash (apparently intact) to the “sucker,” who, nine times out of ten, puts it into his pocket without looking at it. Men on circus grounds operate in the same way, though generally for larger amounts. Sometimes a bill is folded in the middle, so that each end may count for a separate note of the same value.