The scar on Henry's face changed color, and his habitual smile
broadened. "Well!" exclaimed Larry. "Maybe the gent don't like the way
we been runnin' this game in other ways. Maybe he's got a few more
suggestions to make, sittin' in? I like to be obligin'."
He grinned, and the effect was ghastly.
"Thanks," said Andy. "That lets me out as far as suggestions go." He
paused with his hand on the back of the chair, and something told him
that Larry would as soon run a knife into him as take a drink of water.
The eyes burned up at him out of the shadow of the brows, but Andy,
though his heart leaped, made himself meet the stare. Suddenly it
wavered, and only then would Andy sit down. Henry had drawn up
another chair.
"That idea looks good to me," he said. "I think I shall deal." And
forthwith, as one who may not be resisted, he swept up the cards and
began to shuffle.
The others at once lost interest. Each of them nonchalantly produced
silver, and they began to play negligently, careless of their stakes.
But to Andy, who had only played for money half a dozen times before,
this was desperately earnest. He kept to a conservative game, and slowly
but surely he saw his silver being converted into gold. Only Larry
noticed his gains--the others were indifferent to it, but the
skull-faced man tightened his lips as he saw. Suddenly he began betting
in gold, ten dollars for each card he drew. The others were out of that
hand. Andy, breathless, for he had an ace down, saw a three and a two
fall--took the long chance, and, with the luck behind him, watched a
five-spot flutter down to join his draw. Yet Larry, taking the same
draw, was not busted. He had a pair of deuces and a four. There he
stuck, and it stood to reason that he could not win. Yet he bet
recklessly, raising Andy twice, until the latter had no more money on
the table to call a higher bet. The showdown revealed an ace under cover
for Larry also. Now he leaned across the table, smiling at Andrew.
"I like the hand you show," said Larry, "but I don't like your face
behind it, my friend."
His smile went out; his hand jerked back; and then the lean, small hand
of Henry shot out and fastened on the tall man's wrist. "You skunk!"
said Henry. "D'you want to get the kid for that beggarly mess? Bah!"
Andy, colorless, his blood cold, brushed aside the arm of the
intercessor.
"Partner," he said, leaning a little forward in turn, and thereby making
his holster swing clear of the seat of his chair, "partner, I don't mind
your words, but I don't like the way you say 'em."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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