"Y-e-e-a—well, it’s this way," began Dave, sampling his liquor in the customary gulp. He set down his glass to ask abruptly: "Got any friends in Twin River?" "Nary friend—nor anywhere else," replied Tex, indifferently. "Don’t need ’em—can’t afford ’em." Dave looked hard at Tex. "What about that bunch Fanny travels with?" he suggested. "You said friends," was the significant answer. "All right—all th’ better. I seen you play a mighty good game o’ cards." Tex snorted. He could not restrain it. Was it possible Dave was aiming to milk him? "I’m allus willin’ to back my play," he declared, drily. "You won’t have to back it. If yo ’re as good as I hopes, I ’ll back it. It’s this way: I want to back you agin’ a man as thinks he can play. He ’s considerable of a dealer—considerable—an’ he won’t play me because he beats me once an’ thinks I ’m no good. He ’s got money, a-plenty, an’ I don’t want a dollar. You keeps what you wins—an’ I wants you to get it all." He turned and called across the room: "Ike, flip us a new deck." The pack in his hands, he faced Tex again. "Suppose we plays a few hands an’ you gimme a sample o’ yore style." Tex thrust his hands in his pockets and tipped back in his rickety chair. "Lemme get this right," he demanded. "You backs me to play, pockets th’ losses, gives up th’ winnin’s, all to best th’ other feller—on’y he must n’t win." "You got it." "On’y he must n’t win." "That’s what I said." "Must be a friend o’ yourn." "Y-e-s," drawled Dave, with a sardonic smile. "Who is it?" "Peters o’ th’ Double Y." "Ah! I ’ve heard o’ him." "An’ you an’ me an’ a lot more ’ll hear too d—d much o’ him if we don’t run him out. He ’s a heap too good for Twin River." "How ’ll you rope him?" "I got a bait—best kind. They allus fall for a woman." Dave’s sneering tones, as he broke open the pack, sorely taxed his companion’s self-control. "What’ll we play?" he continued. "Better make it ’stud.’ Th’ gamer a man is th’ quicker he goes broke at stud an’ Peters is game enough." Tex dropped back into position and took his hands from his pockets. "I shine at stud," he remarked softly, taking the deck Dave offered him. The joker was sent spinning across the room to glance from the nose of Fanny who sat sprawlingly asleep, nodding to an empty table; the Cornishman, swearing strange oaths, had gone off some time previously; two of the others were renewing the oft-defeated attempt to dice Ike to the extent of a free drink; the rest of the inmates were attending strictly to business and if an occasional oblique glance was aimed at Tex and Dave it did not show the curiosity which may have directed it. "He must n’t win," murmured Tex. The cards rustled in the shuffle. Dave grunted. "An’ you must n’t win?" Tex inquired. "I ’m a-goin’ to do all I know how to win," warned Dave. "Oh, that o’ course," sanctioned Tex. "Shift this table. I likes to see th’ door," he explained.