“Here’s twenty-two dollars,” he said. “Give me that amount in ivories. That’s my last dollar.”
“In such a case,” said Arlington, “I should advise you not to press the betting any further. You may need some money to-morrow.”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Hanks. “I have you beaten this time.”
Chester accepted the money and counted out the chips. While he was doing this Jack Randall and Casper Steele wandered into the room and paused near the table.
“How’s the game going?” inquired Steele.
“Too hot for me,” confessed Harmford. “I just dropped threes to let these two crazy chaps buck each other.”
“What threes did you hold?” inquired Casper, leaning over Harmford.
Harmford whispered the answer in Steele’s ear. Having secured more chips, Hanks resumed betting, quite unaware that Jack Randall stood directly behind him. Chester followed Hanks up until the fellow had pushed in his last chip and was compelled to call.
“I’d never call in the world if I could borrow some money,” he said. “I’ve got you beaten, Arlington, old fellow. You’re trimmed this time.”
“Can you beat four eights?” inquired Chester, as he spread out his hand.