“I will,” said Dick. “I’ll come, Joe.”
CHAPTER XXV.
THE MAN IN THE NEXT ROOM.
Gentle Willie Touch, of the Outlaws, was an inveterate poker player. He was likewise a constant loser, but the more he lost the keener became his desire to play; and so whenever he was paid his salary or could borrow money to get into a game, he might be found trying to “hatch up something.”
At the Sunset House, as the members of Harrison’s ball team lounged around after dinner, Willie sought to inveigle some of his comrades into tempting fortune with the pasteboards.
“Oh, come on, you sick kittens,” he pleaded softly. “Come ahead up to my room and rob me. I’ve got twenty bucks all in hard money that’s too heavy for me to carry around. The weight of so much silver is a severe strain upon my delicate strength, and some one will be doing me a favor by taking it away from me.”
“Get out!” growled Grouch Kennedy. “I’m ashamed to play with you, you’re such a thundering mark. Every time I get into a game and you go broke I want to hand you back anything I’ve won, and that causes me intense pain; for I can’t seem to give up money without distress. I’ve sworn off, Willie boy; I’ll play with you no more.”
“Cruel old Groucher!” sighed Touch. “Now you know you’re welcome to my dough when you win it honestly.”
“Talk about honesty in a poker game!” sneered Kennedy. “Who ever heard of such a thing?”
“You know there’s supposed to be honesty even among thieves.”