“So do I,” said Collinson. “I’ll put in five dollars if you do.”
“Anybody else in?” Old Bill inquired, dropping the coin on the table; and all of the others again “came in.” Old Bill won again; but once more Charlie Loomis prevented him from putting the silver dollar in his pocket.
“Come on now!” Mr. Loomis exclaimed. “Anybody else but me in on this for five dollars next time?”
“I am,” said Collinson, swallowing with a dry throat; and he set forth all that remained to him of his twelve dollars. In return he received a pair of deuces, and the jubilant Charlie won.
He was vainglorious in his triumph. “Didn’t that little luck piece just keep on tryin’ to find the right man?” he cried, and read the inscription loudly. “ ‘Luck hurry back to me!’ Righto! You’re home where you belong, girlie! Now we’ll settle down to our reg’lar little game again.”
“Oh, no,” said Old Bill. “You wouldn’t let me keep it. Put it out there and play for it again.”
“I won’t. She’s mine now.”
“I want my luck piece back myself,” said Smithie. “Put it out and play for it. You made Old Bill.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Yes, you will,” Collinson said, and he spoke without geniality. “You put it out there.”