Of course, the American game was played. But there would sometimes enter a Mexican who was not intimately acquainted with the subtleties of the American deck. In the Mexican deck, for example, the seven, eight and nine spots are omitted. One such person, a pompous, pretentious Mexican, sat in one night just as I had called for a hand of stud. Before the dealer could whistle, the stranger had produced a great wad of money—all sorts, sizes and denominations, and bought one hundred pesos’ worth of chips. The game was on. I drew three hearts in rapid succession, secured Roberts’ pile, and began to play for a flush. The stranger gazed at his cards for a long time as if they were new to him. Then he flushed the deep red of intense excitement, and pushed in fifteen dollars. With the succeeding card he turned quite pale and pushed in twenty-five dollars, and when he looked at his last card he turned red again, and bet fifty dollars. By some miracle I had filled a flush. But the man’s wild betting scared me. I knew that a flush was good for almost anything in stud poker, but I couldn’t keep up with that pace, so I passed the bet to him. He rose at that and protested violently. "How do you mean ’Pass the bet?’" he cried, shaking both fists. It was explained to him, and he subsided. "Very well, then," he said. "Since this fifteen dollars is all I have, and you will not let me buy any more chips, I will bet everything," and he pushed it into the center. I called him. "What have you got?" he almost screamed, leaning trembling over the table. I spread out my flush. With an excited laugh he banged the table a great blow. "Straight!" he cried—and turned up four, five, six, ten, Jack. He had already reached out an arm to gather in the money when the entire table burst into a clamor. "It is wrong!" "It is not a straight!" "The money belongs to the Gringo!" He lay sprawled out on the table with both arms round the pot. "How?" he cried sharply, looking up. "It is not a straight? Look here—four, five, six, ten, knave!" The dealer interposed: "But it should have been four, five, six, seven, eight," he said. "In the American pack there are seven, eight and nine." "How ridiculous!" sneered the man. "I have played cards all my life, and never, never have I seen a seven, eight or nine!" By this time most of the roulette table throng had swarmed in at the door. They added their clamor to ours. "Of course it is not a straight!" "Of course it must be! Is there not four, five, six, ten, knave?" "But the American pack is different!" "But this is not the United States. This is Mexico!" "Hey! Pancho!" shouted the dealer. "Go at once and notify the police!"