RILEY GR ANNAN'S END 



lively in the game and at last one of them called out 

 " I'll raise you ten dollars." This had an electric effect 

 on Riley, who hopped up, took a chair and said, " Give 

 me a stack of those chips. I'm in this business." In 

 half-an-hour he had skinned the lot of them, and was 

 owed quite a decent sum. 



It was soon after this that he went down to Reno 

 and beat the bank out of more than they could pay 

 him. There was only one thing to do for the quick- 

 witted Riley, to tell them that he'd have a share in the 

 establishment and he became partners in the house. 

 A few weeks after, however, he died, a comparatively 

 young man— I don't think he was more than forty. 

 At his funeral in February 1909 there was a great 

 oration delivered by one of those connected with the 

 faro bank they ran. Tlie speaker at the graveside 

 at that mining camp had been a minister at some 

 remote time and I have heard that it was one of the 

 finest send-offs a dead man ever had. I saw a copy 

 of it once, but unhappily cannot reproduce it. Tliere 

 was a quaintness about the whole proceedings which 

 was quite pathetic. It was like one of Bret Harte's 

 stories. 



Yes, he was great value, Charles Riley Grannan, a 

 man who seldom smiled although he possessed a dry 

 humour that was real wit. 



Betting at the same time on English tracks was 

 Charlie Dwyer, who was then about twenty-five years 

 old, a great plunger just like Grannan — that is, when 

 he had it. He was the son of Mike Dwyer of the 

 celebrated Dwyer Brothers who have already been 

 mentioned as successful race-horse owners, and whose 

 horses were first hit upon by Pittsburg Phil as worth 

 following. The partnership between Mike and Phil 

 Dwyer lasted years. They were originally butchers 



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