So after everybody had got excited about our nickels I told them how to
beat the machine. I told them I didn't get excited and go rushing in
where angels fear to tread, and feed the slot machine on good hard
earned nickels of my own, but waited until the countrymen and tenderfeet
had fed it on nickels until it was too full for utterance. When the
machine swelled out like it was blowed up, and it kind of wheezed, like
it was ready to cough up, and was only waiting for an excuse, I put a
cough lozenger about the size of a nickel in the slot and turned the
diaphram. The machine shuddered a minute and then had a regular
hemorrhage, and coughed up a tin cupful of nickels into my hand, and the
machine seemed to rest easy, and take nourishment again from the silly
fellows, who thought they could beat it.
Well, sir, the whole crowd was so excited they could hardly wait to find
a slot machine, and finally they bought nearly all my cough lozengers,
and went out into the night, and pa and I went along, 'cause pa said he
understood all the slot machines were owned by Rockefeller, and he made
more money on them than he did on Standard oil, and the money that he
gave away to schools and churches was from his rake-off on his slot
machines. Pa said it would be a good thing if someone could break up the
reprehensible practice by beating the blasted machines to a finish.
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