"You've got to take it," he cried. "You can't refuse it. You've got to abide by the rules."
"Sit down, you fool!" shouted Farrer, almost losing control of himself. "Who's running this game? Mr. Steadman can't have another card. He can look at his hand, and if he wants to stay out he can, but he's got to play the cards he's got. Pick up your hand, old man. Don't let's get upset over a little thing like that. Why, it may be the very card you want."
But Steadman's obstinacy was aroused.
"I won't do either," said he. "You can't make me play. I can stay out, can't I? I can forfeit my ante. That's my own business, ain't it? Well, I'll watch you fellers play for once. What's a blue chip!"
"You fool!" broke in one of the others. "Why don't you look at your cards? Don't throw away a hundred dollars like that! Here, if you're so proud, I'll look at 'em for you—and stay out."
He reached for the cards, but Steadman struck his hand away.
"Touch those cards if you dare!" he shouted, his eyes glaring. "Leave my cards alone!"
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" exclaimed Farrer soothingly. "Of course, Mr. X can refuse to play if he likes. It's his privilege. Won't you change your mind? Well, take out your chip—nobody objects. Count it a dead hand."
"My chip stays in and I stay out," muttered Steadman.
Ralston saw a furtive look pass between two of the others. Farrer dealt the remaining cards and picked up his hand, grunting as he looked at his cards. The man next him swore softly.