“Half a dollar?” Routt challenged.
Wint nodded. “All right.”
Routt won the draw and shot first. The game went jerkily forward. Neither was an expert player. A run of ten was an event. Wint played silently, his thoughts elsewhere. Routt was cheerful, loquacious, friendly. Wint envied him faintly. Every one liked Jack, respected him....
Routt won the game with a run of four, and laid his cue on the table. “I’ll be back in a minute, Wint,” he said. “You don’t mind waiting?”
“I’ll go with you,” Wint countered.
Routt shook his head. “Now, Wint—no, I won’t let you. You know—play it safe, man. You can’t afford to monkey with this.”
“Don’t be a fool, Jack.”
“Oh, Wint, I mean it. Leave it alone. That’s the only safe way—for you.”
Wint’s eyes flamed suddenly. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked, and started for the door.
Routt followed, still protesting. “Wint—don’t be a darned fool.”